


Killing Beck

by Lazarus76



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Bisexual Quentin Beck, M/M, Peter parker has to become a hero, Predator/Prey, beck blatantly uses his looks, beck is a villain, beck is dangerous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2020-10-03 23:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 32,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20461382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarus76/pseuds/Lazarus76
Summary: The title is a shameless rip off from Killing Eve (great series, btw)Quentin Beck is a flamboyant, attention seeking assassin who is paid to get rid of the pesky people the wealthy don't want to be bothered with.  Its a shame he has to adopt multiple guises to get rid of them, but he's loving his mystique. However, an earnest young SHIELD operative is tasked with closing a net onto him. As Beck continues to try and fool the world, Peter Parker gets closer.





	1. Romantic Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> Peter is a little older in this - very early twenties, recruited straight out of college.

_I can see you._

The words practically purred in Quentin Beck's throat as he scanned the restaurant. Coming towards him, a slightly nervous expression on her face, was a woman easily a decade and a half his senior. Dressed in a lavender gown, and with her hair softly styled, Beck had to admit she looked good. But not so good it detracted from why he was there. 

She paused at his table. "Are you...Sam?"

Beck stood up. "Yes, I am," he said, softly, taking her hand. "Are you Elizabeth?"

"Yes!" She laughed, nervously. Beck smiled again. "Please," he said, gesturing, "have a seat."

She sat down, and swallowed. Suddenly, a waiter appeared. "Can I get you drinks?"

"Wine please," Beck said, smoothly. "Two glasses of your finest Chauteuneuf du Pape." The waiter nodded, and moved away soundlessly. 

Elizabeth looked at Beck and smiled - a genuine, hopeful one. He reciprocated. _This is too easy_. 

"I...I'm surprised you agreed to meet me," she said, her cheeks colouring slightly. Beck picked up his water glass and took a sip, pulling his face into a slight frown. "Why is that?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Well, I can't believe a man like you..." her voice faltered, as her eyes none too subtly swept him over - "was interested in meeting a woman like me."

Beck looked at her and sighed. "Please. I'm here because of bad experiences with women my own age. I need someone with maturity, experience. Someone who can..." he paused for effect "teach me something new." He picked up his water glass and took another sip, watching how her eyes zeroed in on his mouth. 

"It sounds as though women your age don't appreciate you!"

Beck pulled his face into a pout. "I've tried. But they're so indecisive. One minute they want to be free agents, and see me casually, next they're talking about marriage." He shook his head, sadly. "I need someone who makes decisions, and sticks to them. Someone who isn't going to toy with my emotions."

At this, she leaned over, and placed her hand on his. Beck immediately flicked up his thumb, and began to carefully run it along hers. She seemed to shiver in delight, and Beck had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. This was so easy, it was beneath him. 

"Where are you staying at the moment?" she whispered. He smiled at her. 

"At a hotel." He locked eyes with her. "Its really anonymous."

"My place is..." she paused "only a ten minute cab drive from here."

"Well," Beck said, nodding, "sounds like we know where we're going." The waiter was approaching their table again, with the wine bottle. "But do you mind if we eat first?" He smiled and winked at her. "I think I'm going to need to keep my energy levels up!"

At this, she gave a delighted laugh. As the waiter poured the dark liquid into their glasses, Beck's eyes went to her neck. Raising his glass, he smiled at her. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"That was quick!"

Beck smirked as he entered the large, well furnished room. William looked up from his laptop. Beck casually discarded his jacket, which was immediately picked up. "Does this need cleaning, boss?"

"Please, Janice." Beck nodded. "I tried to move out of the way but I'm sure a spray of blood hit me." He grimaced. "I need that jacket deep cleaned, OK?"

The woman nodded. "Of course."

As Janice hurried out of the room with the dirtied jacket in her hands, William turned to Quentin. "How did it go?"

"Easy." Beck threw himself down on the couch with exaggerated languidity. "Far too easy." He smirked. 

"What made it easy?"

Beck grinned. "The fact that she bought every single line I told her, and then I don't want to make it sound as though I'm showing off, but...I used my abs."

William blinked, perplexed. "You killed her with your abs?"

Quentin chuckled, getting up off the couch and moving to a cabinet. Opening a well-carved door, he retrieved a bottle, and proceeded to pull the top off it. "No, I waited until we got to her place, pulled my shirt off...and whilst she was admiring my body, eyeing me up as though I'm a prime piece of beef steak, I stabbed her in the neck." He took a swallow from the bottle. "She was running her hand down my torso, cooing over how well built I am and again she can't believe this piece of male perfection is interested in someone fifteen years older, and then I just plunged the knife into the artery." He took another swallow. 

William looked at him, mouth hanging open slightly. "What did she say?"

Beck shrugged, indifferent. "Nothing. Spluttered a bit. Collapsed." He took another swallow. "But people believe what they want to believe, and she decided to believe I was interested." He collapsed back onto the couch. "But Gunterman!" A tall, sallow man seated in an armchair looked up. "The story you gave me about how women my age are too difficult and I needed someone to make my decisions- inspired!!" 

Gunterman nodded. “Glad to be of service. Her ex-husband dropped the money off...remember to split it!”

Beck smiled and took another swallow of beer. “Of course. Where would I be without my amazing, wealthy team? It'll be in the press tomorrow – another killing by the anonymous assassin Mysterio.” He grinned. “You've got to love misinterpretation of Italian for that one!”

William spoke. “Where are we heading next?”

“Venice. A CEO is in my sights.” Beck put the bottle down on the table. “And he's not getting out of them.”


	2. Death in Venice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck is on form.

"Somebody get this stupid costume off me!!"

Janice immediately jumped out of her seat and scuttled across the room. Beck stood, clad in a soaking wet blue shirt, which clung to his torso. A pair of beige shorts, stained with dark liquid, completed the look. Janice immediately held up a soft white bathrobe. "Here you are Boss."

Quentin took the robe, as Janice unflicked the buttons and helped drag the dirtied shirt off him. As she pulled it away, he slipped his arms into the robe, loosely tying the belt whilst he undid the fly of the shorts. He let them casually drop to the floor, exposing his long legs. Janice bent down and scooped them up, as the robe fell softly around Quentin's body. 

He smiled at her. "Yeah, thanks honey." Janice visibly melted slightly, before Beck turned and strode back across the room, sinking into a chair. He closed his eyes. "Well, that wasn't so hard!"

William smiled. "Boss, that was amazing. The way you did that to Hammer..." He swung his laptop round so Beck could see it. "WEAPON TECH CEO DEAD!" screamed the headline on the new site. Beck smiled. "Indeed. And what's even better, is that his time of death was exactly 2 hours after we encountered each other. So therefore nothing can be traced back to me." 

"Again, Boss, your plan is genius."

"Of course it is." Beck smirked. "Everything has to be planned perfectly, and it is." He leaned his head back and sighed, his mind tracing back over the events of the previous day. Landing in Venice, he'd quickly disappeared into the men's room at the airport to change his clothes, discarding his sharp black suit for a hideous blue and white shirt, and beige cargo shorts. He'd wrinkled his nose when Janice had presented them, but she'd assured him that it was peak tourist season, and this would help him blend in. 

After folding his suit, carefully stashing it in a bag, and then dropping the bag at a location for Veronica to retrieve, Beck had walked down the main street of Venice. As he cast his eyes around, shielded by the peak of a black baseball cap, he had to admit Janice was right. The area was filled with tourists, and most of the men were dressed exceptionally casually. Beck put a hand in his pocket and began to walk, approaching the square near the Da VInci museum. This was where the target would be. 

Stopping at a small cafe, he ordered an iced latte to go, and then looked round. There he was. Justin Hammer. Dressed to impress in an expensive cream coloured three piece suit, accompanied by a plasticine blonde. Beck watched as they were seated by a somewhat over-attentive waiter at the outdoor tables, clearly realising that Hammer was a man with time and money to spend. As he was handed his drink, he thanked the young woman behind the counter, entreated her to a dazzling smile accompanied by wide open blue eyes, and a fistful of Euros, and turned and walked out. 

Hammer was seated exactly where he needed him to be. Facing the museum. An audience was always good. Beck flicked his eyes round, and satisfied no-one was looking at yet another tourist, pulled his phone out of his pocket. He curled his hand round it, and started being very busy in looking at the screen, as he walked through the tables, nearing towards Hammer. 

As he walked, his confident, easy gait began to slow. Then, suddenly, Beck was tripping slightly, a shower of iced coffee falling onto the CEO. As Hammer got up, spluttering with indignation, Beck adopted an expression of true regret, and immediately dropped the near empty coffee cup, instead reaching for a napkin to mop up the mess on Hammer's shirt. Whilst pouring out platitudes in Italian, causing a look of consternation to flicker across the other man's face, Beck used the hand his phone was holding, slipped out a small syringe concealed by his fingers and jabbed it into Hammer's side. The blonde looked surprised, making an exclamation in a language that Beck thought he knew, but dismissed it. The CEO felt a sting under his arm, but it was the peak of summer in Venice, insects...and there was this irritating local, blabbering on whilst he made an even bigger mess of his Gianni Versace than the idiot had managed when he spilled liquid over him. 

"That's enough," Hammer said, sharply, and putting a hand on Beck's shoulder almost pushed him away. Beck stopped, straightened up, and smiled. Tipping his cap, he picked up the coffee cup and wandered off. As he walked, he kept a steady pace. He put the phone to his ear, and turned as though trying to pick up a signal. He saw Hammer sitting, laughing with the blonde. No obvious pain, or discomfort. He smiled. 

At the corner, he found the door. Fitting the key that was in the pockets of the shorts, he turned it in the lock, and went upstairs. Now it was seven in the evening. Hammer would no doubt be going out to eat, and food poisoning, Beck mused, was a common issue in travelling abroad. He walked to the windows of the empty apartment rented in Gunterman's name. Opening the small fridge, he smiled as he found two bottle of his favourite beer. Time to drink one, he thought to himself, before walking back across town to meet the rest of the team.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Parker!"

Peter Parker's head jerked up. He'd been engrossed in listening to a recorded conversation that alluded to the illegal shipping of weapons, and the name Eugene Tooms had been mentioned. He pulled out his earphones, and hit stop on his desktop. "Yes, Agent Wilson?"

Sam Wilson stood in front of him, taking in the casually discarded take away coffee cups, soda cans, and banana that littered the younger man's desk. "The boss needs to see you."

"But I saw him this morning!" Peter protested. "I mean, Mr Coulson-"

"Not that boss," Sam said, shaking his head, "the boss."

"Nick Fury?" Peter's face paled slightly. The man was an urban myth - even amongst his own workforce. 

"That's the one," Sam nodded. "Now, go and see him. And when you come back, tidy this desk. Or I'll fire you."

Nodding, Peter jumped to his feet. "Yes, sir!" As he sped off down the corridor, Sam looked down, and picked up the banana.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Agent Parker?"

Peter blinked. A tall, composed woman stood in front of him. "I'm Maria Hill. Director Fury is this way." Together they walked a few paces, and then entered an office. Peter looked round. It was modern, and spacious, with several screens hanging on the wall. Nick Fury was standing behind a desk, his trademark leather coat framing him. "Mr Parker. Have a seat."

Nodding, Peter sat down on one of the metal chairs. Hill also sat, whilst Fury paced. He turned and looked at him. "At the training facility, you gained the nickname 'The Spider'." He paused. "Why was that, Mr Parker?"

"Um...I like climbing walls?" Peter volunteered, and then felt slightly foolish. Fury shook his head. 

"Wrong. Its because, like a spider, you can get into the places that other agents can't reach." He looked at the younger man. "Both in terms of physical spaces, and in terms of mental spaces." Fury seated himself, and leaned back in his chair. "Which means you stand a very good chance of getting our new target."

"Eugene Tooms?" Peter swallowed. "I think I'm getting evidence, on him, Sir, but-"

Fury acted as though Peter had not spoken. He merely reached for a slim silver remote wand, and pressed a button. An image from a new site flashed up onto the screen. "HAMMER TECH CEO DEAD IN VENICE" was the sombre headline, accompanied by a picture of a smiling Justin Hammer. 

"This happened late night before yesterday," Fury informed him, as Peter's eyes roved over the screen. "Mr Hammer was in Venice with a girlfriend, went out for a meal, and then collapsed and died in his hotel room before medical attention could get to him."

Peter blinked. "Heart attack?"

Hill spoke. "He ran eight miles a day and had a personal trainer." 

Peter tried again. "Food poisoning?"

"His girlfriend had the same meal, along with twenty other diners at the restaurant. None of them are sick."

Peter decided to risk it again. "Poison?"

"We believe that may be the case." Fury spoke. "The doctor who said he would perform the autopsy on Hammer said it would take a couple of days."

"So...you think...its an assassin?"

Fury looked at him. "We think its one assassin. A specific assassin who has been operating for over a year. He's highly skilled and so far untraceable." Fury got up, and leaned over the desk. "I need you to find him."

"Isn't that..." Peter swallowed "dangerous?"

"You're a SHIELD agent," Fury reminded him. "Now is not the time to start quibbling about danger. This man is dangerous. He seems to be targeting the rich and famous."

"Um...anyone else he's killed, recently?"

"The soon to be ex wife of a businessman was found dead in her apartment in New York," Hill interjected. "This man wined and dined her, let her take him to her home, and then killed her. Think about it - he waltzed in to her apartment in front of a doorman, neighbours, many passers by." Hill looked at Peter. "He's brazen, an attention seeker. He might even like the idea of getting caught and getting attention."

"But what about..." Peter was trying to pull his thought together. "What about Mr Hammer's girlfriend?"

"She's in our custody." Fury spoke. "After Hammer died, she panicked and got the first flight back here. She was met at the airport." He looked at Peter. "There's a translator on hand- I need you to go and talk to her."

"Translator?"

"She's Russian. Very patchy English."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Boss?"

Quentin turned. William had a slightly panicked expression on his face, and Beck felt a stab of irritation. "What is it?"

"Hammer's girlfriend-"

"What about her?"

"Apparently she's back in the States. Under SHIELD protection."

Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"Well, isn't it worrying-"

"No, it isn't." Beck shrugged. "She didn't speak English, she'll be in shock, and I have no intention of wearing a hideous outfit like that again." He smiled at William. "Relax. It'll be fine."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Um, OK, Ms" - Peter checked his notes - "Sokolova, my name's Peter Parker and I need to interview you." He swallowed. "The translator will tell me everything you say. You have a cup of tea, and water, and if you get distressed you say."

The translator nodded, and fired off a few sentences of rapid Russian. The younger woman nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. Peter smiled, trying to be reassuring. "What your first question?" the translator had her finger over the recording equipment. "Um," Peter had to pause. "Did you and Mr Hammer encounter any strangers that day? Not just hotel staff, or waiters, but someone who came into close contact?"

The translator repeated Peter's question in Russian, taking time to enunciate clearly. The younger woman sat up as though electrified, nodding eagerly. 

"О, он был мужчиной!"

Peter turned to the translator. "What did she say?"

"He was a man," the woman replied. Peter nodded. "Thank you. Now, can you describe this man?"

"туристический человек!!"

"A tourist man." The translator looked at Peter. 

"Right." Peter blinked. The description the distressed woman was giving was so generic it was useless. "Right. I think we'll end it there. I think you need to get some sleep-"

Suddenly, the younger woman's expression froze, and she fired out another sentence.

"ребенок столкнулся с шалфеем!!"

"What?" Peter asked the translator, who looked confused. "I'm not sure," she replied. "It sounded like...slang."

"Oh." Peter blinked. "Slang?"

"Yes." The woman looked at him somewhat helplessly. "You'll need a native speaker, someone whose grown up with the language."

"OK." Peter felt slightly deflated, then suddenly a thought occurred. "Many thanks for your time." Picking up the recording device, he turned and left the room. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hey, Mr Barnes?"

James Buchanan Barnes looked up from his desk, where he was hard at work on a military strategy programme. "Hey," he said, nodding. "What is it, Parker?"

"Mr Barnes-" Peter swallowed - "aren't you a Russian speaker?"

Barnes' nodded. "I am."

"Could you-" Peter swallowed - "translate this for me?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Twenty minutes later, Barnes - "call me Bucky" - and Peter were sitting in one of the small meeting rooms. Bucky listened to the Russian, chewing the tip of his pen. Suddenly, his face cleared, and he jotted down a few words in English. Peter craned his neck, eagerly. "What does that say?"

Bucky looked at him. "Apparently, the stranger they encountered was a tourist, who happens to be male, with a baby face and is hunky." Bucky raised his eyebrows. "So you're clearly looking for someone with movie star good looks and a gym subscription." 

Peter's jaw dropped. "Is that what a typical assassin looks like?"

Bucky shrugged. "Its what this one may do. You have no evidence he's the assassin. Could just be a random stranger."

"What if he isn't?"

"That's for you to find out." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck was scrolling through his tablet, a slightly sick feeling lodging itself in his stomach. This was bad. 

Hammer's girlfriend was in custody of SHIELD, and had apparently been interviewed. Interviewed by an agent with an agenda of finding out what had happened to Hammer. 

Beck glowered. This could not be happening. He still hadn't received the money for the hit on Hammer, and as he had two new Armani suits on order, the money would be nice sooner rather than later. As if on cue, his iPhone pinged into life. "Hi."

"Hey, Quentin. How y'doin'?" a gutteral, heavily accented voice asked. Beck tightened his curled fingers round the phone. "Ivan. I'm good. I-"

"So, who's the girl you let get away?"

Beck bristled at the implied criticism. "A nobody."

"See Quentin, I like you. But this isn't good." There was an implied menace in Ivan Vanko's voice that slightly shook Beck's confidence. "She spills about you...it gets traced to me. No good."

Beck swallowed. "Ivan. I can solve this."

"Good." The man's voice was heavy. "You've got 48 hours."

Beck smiled. "I just need 24."


	3. Carry on nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitals can be very unpleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this is a bit of remix of Killing Eve. But the protagonist in it is flamboyant, attention seeking, rather needy, and also arrogant and narcissistic...just like Beck, in fact.

"This is so cool!"

Peter looked at his best friend. Ned was halfway through eating a taco, and he'd squeezed the food when Peter had told him, causing the contents to bulge out of its shell. Peter swallowed. "Well, you think its cool. I think it could be...dangerous."

"Dude," Ned said, simply. "You're looking for an assassin! Just how cool is that?!" He finished chewing and swallowed. "I used to think these guys only existed in comic books, and superhero movies...but no, he's real!"

"First of all," Peter said, frowning "I don't know it is a he. It could be a woman. Secondly, they do exist, and trust me, they are dangerous. There's no superhero to swoop in and save you from one of these. All you've got are people..." he blinked "like me."

"But Peter!" Ned's tone became slightly urgent. "Nick Fury recruited you for this job! Do you remember when he recruited you for SHIELD? I got tranked in the lounge whilst you were brushing your teeth? That was the coolest thing that ever happened to me!!" 

"I know Ned." Peter bit his lip. "Its just...I have to think about the people I care about. You and May and MJ. Which is why I'm telling you this, but I'm also telling you to be careful, OK? You see anyone suspicious, you need to tell me."

Ned nodded, taking another bite of his taco. "Sure. I got you."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Quentin yawned, and stretched. He checked his watch - half past two. Time to go. 

Dressed in an unassuming pair of blue jeans and white t-shirt, he threw a sweater on over the ensemble and left the apartment. He needed to get to the hospital, where he had been informed Hammer's girlfriend was undergoing medical treatment for shock. Stepping onto the pavement, he hailed a cab. As he sped towards it, he checked his phone. ID for her had come through, and he knew exactly how to get to her. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter swallowed as he approached the hospital's glass doors. He'd been tasked with checking on Katya, to make sure she was recovering. "She's our only lead," Hill had told him, with what sounded like added solemnity. "We need to keep her safe."

Peter pulled at his black dress slacks. He was wearing a suit, the one May had bought for him at his graduation. Adjusting his shirt and tie, he entered the building. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck entered the hospital through a side door, and descended a flight of stairs. He was now in the lower echelons, near the staff break rooms, according to the intel William had ripped from the hospital's intranet. A corridor, with a couple of side doors. He tested one - locked. A quick shuffle with a handy little device called a credit card, and it opened. A large stock cupboard, filled with buckets and mops, cleaning fluids. He began to prowl, looking for the person he needed. 

"Excuse me!"

Beck turned. A young man was scowling at him. He was dressed in ice blue scrubs, a clipboard in his hand. Beck smiled, disarmingly. 

"I'm so sorry," he said, taking a step forward. "I was looking for a coffee machine..."

The nurse nodded, his expression softening. "Oh, I see. Well you go back up that flight of stairs -"

He crumpled to the floor, having been felled by one punch. Beck looked round, then dragged the unconscious man into the stock cupboard. Hastily, he pulled the garments of the man, and then undressed himself. Pulling on the tunic and trousers, he grabbed at the drawstring, shrinking the waistband, then looked at his own clothes. He folded them into a neat pile, and put them into the dark plastic bag in his jeans pocket. Scanning the shelves, he picked up a pair of latex rubber gloves from an open box. He quickly ruffled up his hair, and then stood, gazing dispassionately at the man at his feet. Leaning down, he reached for his jaw. A sickening crack later, and the young nurse's corpse lay across Quentin's feet. Shrugging, he opened the door to the cupboard, and scanned the corridor. Deserted. He walked out, tossing the clipboard behind a bank of lockers. 

After climbing two flights of stairs, he came to the main hub of the hospital. Smiling, he approached the reception desk. A harried looking middle aged woman looked up. 

"Hello," she said, blushing slightly as he turned his gaze on her. "How can I help you?"

"Yeah, hi honey. I'm looking for the ward that Katya Sokolova is on. I've been told to do a blood test for Plebotomy and report back."

"Oh, of course, its room 3. Just walk down the hall and turn right."

"Thank you so much!" Beck smiled as he walked away. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter approached the hub, catching the eye of a competent looking woman in a white coat. She approached him. "Can I help you?"

"Um...Peter pulled out his badge. "Peter Parker, SHIELD?"

The woman looked at him. "You're an agent?"

"I'm here for..." Peter lowered his voice "Katya Sokolova?"

"Oh yes!" The doctor's face cleared. "She's in room 3, just down the hall way. She was sleeping."

"Thank you," Peter breathed. He turned away, and suddenly realised the irritation in his bladder. Two cups of coffee and a litre of water...he winced, and hurried towards the sign for the men's room.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Quentin pulled off the latex gloves as he entered the men's room, dumping them into the waste bin. They'd be incinerated in about an hour. Shrugging, he placed his hands under the tap, and let the water cool his blood. Suddenly, he became aware of a form next to him. A younger man - easily a good ten years or more younger - who was fussing with his hair.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter realised someone had entered, but was engrossed in dealing with his hair. It was flopping forward, and he bit his lip, trying to smooth it back. But then it flopped forward again. He shook his head in frustration. 

Suddenly, he heard a voice. "Wear it back."

Peter blinked. Standing next to him was a nurse, whose light blue scrubs co-ordinated with his eyes. "E-excuse me!"

"Wear it back," the older man said, nodding. "It looks better." He finished rinsing his hands, grabbed some paper towels out of the dispenser, and left the room. Peter stood stock still, gazing after the man's retreating back. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck walked out of the hospital doors, saying goodbye to the security desk. Nothing to sign, nothing questioned. Holding the bag with his own clothes, he began to walk, disappearing into the crowds. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter stood, shocked. This wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

Katya Sokolova lay across the bed, her eyes wide open. But she wasn't breathing, Peter ascertained - likely due to the angry red marks around her neck. A clear sign of strangulation. 

Peter staggered backwards. This was a nightmare. It had to be. It just had to be.


	4. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's in the frame.

"Oh my God!!" 

Shocked and horrified, Peter could only stare at the body of the young woman. Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Ms Solokova! Wake up! Oh, please, wake up!!"

"What's going on?!""

Peter turned to be confronted by a woman, dressed in a sharp white uniform. "What are you-" her eyes widened as she approached the bed. "She can't be..." she picked up Katya's arm, and felt for her pulse. She turned to Peter, accusingly. "What did you do?!"

"I didn't do anything!!" Fear and anger stretched Peter's voice, making it sound unnaturally high pitched. "I'm a SHIELD agent!! I'm just here to check on her, and-"

Peter's words were choked off by two large men, one of whom grabbed his shoulders, the other his wrists. Before he could blink, he was on the ground. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck sighed as he unlocked the door to his own personal apartment. He sank down onto the couch, adjusting himself for comfort. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he noted it was after seven. Smiling, he pressed his contacts list, taking him direct to a pizza delivery joint he liked. 

"Oh, hi," he said, smoothly. "One large Pepperoni please. Extra cheese. Extra peppers. Thank you."

Hanging up, he picked up the remote, flicking on the large flat screen TV. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter stared at the floor. Time was crawling. He sniffled, rubbing his eyes with his hand. 

He'd been escorted out of the hospital, and thrown into the back of a police car. Then he'd felt his arm being gripped and he was pulled out. Thrown into a cell. 

Peter leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. Suddenly, he heard one of the guards speak "Hey, can I help you?"

"I hope so. I'm Agent Barnes, SHIELD. I'm here for Peter Parker."

"Parker's being held for questioning."

"Yeah. Questioning by us. He's under our jurisdiction, and this piece of paper is stating very clearly he needs to be released for it."

Peter swallowed. Suddenly, the key scraped in the lock, and a grim faced cop was opening the door. "Here he is."

"Parker?" Barnes didn't speak unkindly, and Peter looked up. "Come on."

They walked in silence to a large, grey coloured sedan, and Peter waited as Bucky unlocked it. As the older man started the engine and began to pull away from the curb, Peter began to speak. "Are you taking me to Fury?"

"Uh-huh." Bucky was watching the road as he pulled into the fast moving traffic. "He needs to know what happened."

"I didn't see what happened, I was in the wash room, I-"

"Kid," Barnes spoke patiently. "I'm not interrogating you. I'm just the babysitter to get you there. What Fury does is up to him." 

Peter lapsed into silence. Barnes gave him a swift glance. "Just tell him the truth. That's all you can do."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck folded his second slice of pizza into a roll and shoved it in his mouth. Whilst chewing, he checked his contact list. 

"Hmmm..." he mumbled, chewing slowly. "Boring, boring, boring...now that could be a good hit." He bit off another mouthful of pizza, and slumped on the couch. Picking up the remote, he idly flicked through the channels. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter waited in what felt like a torturous silence as Fury looked at him. The older man's solitary eye scanned him up and down. Finally, Fury spoke. 

"What happened, Parker?"

Peter swallowed. "I was in the wash room - I got to her room - and I found her lying there, dead."

Fury took this on board. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Did you see the person or persons who committed this act?"

"No, I didn't." Peter could feel strain starting to set in and he was starting to shake. "All I saw was her, lying there."

"Did you see anyone else enter or leave the room?"

"No." Peter could feel his eyes beginning to fill, and inwardly he cursed himself. The last thing he needed to do was cry in front of Fury. "I did not."

"So someone slipped into her room whilst you were in the john, and proceeded to kill her." Fury leaned back. "Someone who can elude my agents, and can kill in a place where they could be discovered at any minute."

Fury looked at Peter. "Do you think this is the work of our mysterious friend?"

Peter nodded. "Yes. I mean, she was Mr Hammer's girlfriend, and she could have identified him-"

Hill spoke. "Why are you so sure its a him?" She looked at Peter. "The fact Hammer was poisoned by a needle given to him in the street could just as easily be a woman."

Peter swallowed. "I asked Agent Barnes for help with the translation."

Fury leaned over. "You asked an agent who was not attached to listen to confidential evidence?"

Peter nodded again. "Yes. And Agent Barnes picked out some words that the translator didn't know, because they were slangy words, and Agent Barnes is a native Russian speaker, so-"

Peter's voice dwindled. Fury was looking at him in a manner that made him feel pinned to the spot. "You took confidential evidence."

Peter stared at the floor. Finally, Fury spoke again. 

"I oughta fire your ass. But, we need to find this individual. And I like it when people show initiative. What did Agent Barnes translate?"

"Mr Hammer's girlfriend - Katya - she described the man who they saw in Venice as baby faced, and hunky." Peter looked at Fury, and then at Hill. "The word hunky - you use it to describe men. It means powerfully built, sexually attractive-"

Fury interrupted. "Yes, thank you, we don't need a lesson in linguistics." Hill and Fury exchanged glances. "Are you sure that's what she said?"

"Its on the recording."

"Well," Fury said, "you are now responsible for tracking a hunky assassin, according to our Russian speaker."

Peter nodded. "Yes, Sir."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck swallowed the remnants of his fourth slice of pizza. He was debating whether to reach for the fifth, when suddenly the news caught his eye. 

"...a murder in a hospital. A young woman was found strangled. Police are appealing for anyone who saw anything to come forward. It is further complicated that SHIELD have taken an interest, as the victim was the girlfriend of the CEO Tech millionaire Justin Hammer, who died in Venice three days ago."

Beck gnashed his teeth. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and rubbed his forehead. Suddenly, his phone rung. "Yeah?"

"Boss? William."

Beck groaned. "William. What is it?"

"Have you seen the news? SHIELD. SHIELD are after you."

"I know." Beck grimaced. "Nick Fury, the most paranoid and the most dangerous person in the world is looking for me. And if he finds me, he'll put a bullet in my head." Beck picked up the fifth slice and bit into it. "So, I have a problem. And so do you. Because if he catches me, everyone else goes down as well. And does anyone want a bullet in their head?" 

Silence. 

"Fury is sending a SHIELD agent to look for me. I need to find-" suddenly, Beck stopped. He was remembering. The young man in the bathroom, nervous, and slightly jittery. Clad in a formal dark suit. Beck had eyed him, wondering who he was. 

He blinked. "William?"

"Boss?"

"Access all the CCTV footage you can find through remote hacking of the hospital, specifically second floor, corridor off the hub. Send it to me."

"Yes boss."

Beck chewed his way through the fifth slice of pizza. A bleep from his phone indicated the ripped CCTV was there. Scrolling into his emails, he noticed the attached package. Playing it through his phone, he watched.

Then he appeared. Standing at the desk in the second floor, presenting his ID. Beck froze the image and enlarged it. There he was. 

Smirking, Beck lowered the phone. "I can see you," he whispered. Leaning back, he reached for the sixth slice of pizza.


	5. Having a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit meta. Especially for Beck.

Beck checked the paper in his hand. This was it. He rang the doorbell. After a few seconds, the door opened, to reveal a shy looking, thin young man.

"Hi, Andy?" Beck smiled.

The young man looked startled. "Oh, wow...are you Theo?!"

Beck nodded. "Yes. Yes I am."

"Please come in!!"

Beck entered the quiet townhouse, noting the brightly coloured prints in the hallway. He smiled again at Andy. "Are you a comic book fan?" 

Andy blushed. "Yes. Yes I am. I'm more of a Marvel than DC fan, though."

Beck laughed. "What a coincidence! So am I!" He grinned at him. 

At this, the shy expression began to evaporate, revealing a pleasant face with large green eyes. He ran a hand through his light reddish hair. "So...can I get you something to drink?"

"Just water please."

As Andy hurried into the kitchen, Beck discreetly pulled out his phone and checked his messages. 

_Please take care of this. He's threatening to sell data. I cannot have this type of character in my organisation. L_

Beck smiled and slid the phone into his pocket. The SHIELD agent could wait. Beck still had work to do, and part of the thrill was the ability to taunt the so-called crime busters. Andy poked his head out of a doorway. "Can you come in here, Theo?"

Beck walked through. Andy was in the kitchen, a room decorated tastefully and with modern equipment. He was sitting at a white table, with two glasses of water placed on it. Beck slid into the seat opposite, and picked up the glass. Andy swallowed. "So...Theo..."

Beck took a sip of water. "Yes, Andy?"

"About this afternoon..." the other man's face was starting to blush again. "I have a very, um, specific fetish. If you don't want to do it, that's fine, I'll pay you anyway and you can leave, but I saw your picture and read your profile and just thought..." his voice trailed off. 

Beck immediately reached across the table, and patted his hand. "Look, I've probably heard infinitely worse than you're about to say. As long as its not water sports or you wanting me to wear a diaper and get spanked, I'm up for most things."

Andy looked both slightly shocked and relieved. "Oh, God, no! I'm not into either! I just...I would love to be rescued. By a superhero. A big, strong, handsome guy...who swoops in and saves me..."

His voice trailed off. Beck could have sworn he was on the verge of tears. He patted his hand again. "That sounds like a good fantasy."

Andy sniffled. "You think so?"

Beck laughed. "You just want to be protected, feel loved." He frowned sympathetically. "I can relate to that."

"Really?" Andy looked at him. "But you're so..." he blushed. "I just can't imagine a guy like you having any issues in finding someone."

Beck looked at him. "Trust me, I've not been lucky. People believe what they want to believe about me. Generally that I'm shallow, or obsessed with being in the gym, or only wear designer clothes. I'd much rather be at home with a pizza and beer, talking to someone about politics and sorting out the world's problems than doing stomach crunches." He wrinkled his nose. Andy laughed. 

"Well, I don't think you need to worry..." Andy blushed again. "But, um, I'll show you the suit...and then maybe we can decide what we're going to do?"

Beck nodded. "I think that's a great idea. By your lead!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Here you go kid." Peter looked up as Bucky deposited a can of Coke on his desk. "Full fat, full sugar, full caffeine..." He sat down opposite him. "You've been at those files for three hours, I thought you could do with some energy."

"Thanks, man." Peter smiled appreciatively. "How do you know about the files?"

"I've been assigned to assist you." Bucky picked up his own styrofoam cup of black coffee. "Because I am indeed a Russian speaker - oh, and Romanian as well, fyi - and Fury thinks you could do with someone with a little more experience. Help you look for the patterns."

Peter cracked open the can, and took a sip. The sweet bubbliness slid down. "Patterns?"

"Its fairly standard." Bucky put his cup down, and leaned closer. "Someone like our friend Mr Mysterious has trademarks. The question is spotting them."

"What have you noticed?" Peter took another sip. 

"Arrogance. This is someone who really doesn't care about getting caught - so he's outrageous about it." Bucky took another swallow of coffee. "What happened to Hammer - right in one of Venice's busiest tourist areas. Katya Solokova - in a hospital! He's arrogant. Its almost as though he's walking around, going 'here, come and get me!!'"

Peter was frowning. "Do you reckon he's a master of disguise?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows. "That term belongs in the movies, Parker, but if you're asking me do I think our man can blend in and not have people notice him, then yes, I do. But it must be difficult, because if Katya's description is right, we're looking for a hot-for-Hollywood Adonis."

Peter dropped his pen in frustration. "So, good looking, but not that good looking?"

"No." Bucky shook his head. "Good looking, but not afraid to look ordinary." Bucky looked at Peter. "Think carefully. Hospital. A killer who can slip around unnoticed. Doesn't draw attention to his looks. So what could he go in as...?"

Peter's jaw dropped. "A nurse!! The nurse!!"

"What?"

"There was this nurse - a guy - in the washroom. Told me how I should wear my hair!"

Bucky blinked. "Is it possible he was just trying a come on with you?"

"Oh!" Peter reached for his Coke can, now visibly irritated. "Bucky! You're making this so hard!"

"I'm trying to get you to think like a skilled SHIELD agent," Barnes reminded him gently. "Someone saying, 'you look good' does not mean they're our man." Bucky shrugged. "A sweet woman complimented me in the gorcery store the other day. Said I had lovely manners and lovely eyes, because I picked something off a high shelf for her. Should I have said, 'thanks honey, now, can you tell me if you're responsible for killing the CEO of Hammer Tech?'"

Peter snorted. "That's silly."

"OK." Bucky nodded. "Let's go to profiling. See if you can put together a composite of this nurse. Then we send it to the hospital. Come on!"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The costume was _ridiculous_.

Beck felt his lip curling as he adjusted the skin tight, dark green bodysuit, thinking absently it was a good thing he had been hitting the gym in the last month. It stretched across his stomach and bound his arms, leaving nothing concealed. Then he picked up the armoured breast plate, strapping it on the sides. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He frowned. He looked like a shoddy Lord of the Rings extra, and felt he'd gained 10lbs due to the weight of the breastplate and the huge boots. Even Janice would not dare have him suffer the indignity of wearing something like this. 

"Theo?"

He turned, and Andy was standing there, holding a dark burgundy coloured cape. Beck's jaw dropped slightly. "I-"

"Oh, _my God!_" Andy looked as if he was about to start crying, and Beck felt his patience dissipate further. "You look...you look like you belong in _Game of Thrones_!"

Beck raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes!" Andy lowered his voice. "Perhaps next time...you could wear all black, and a fur cape, like Jon Snow...he's a really dashing hero!"

Beck looked at him. "The one with the really hot aunt?"

"Um, yeah..." Andy looked momentarily confused, then shook his head. "Here's the final touch!"

Beck allowed Andy to fasted the clips of the cloak. It was velvet and smelled slightly musty. "Wow!" Andy took a step back. "You really fill that out properly! You look like a soldier, from another dimension!"

Beck smiled, an act of joviality he definitely did not feel at this point. "Like...Thor?"

"You're better looking than Thor," Andy said, sincerely. "You've got more...character in your face. Plus...I'm not really into blondes. Plus..." he came close to Quentin, and lowered his voice. "You're real."

At this, Beck grinned. "I can assure you Andy, I'm very real. In fact, I'm the realest person you're ever going to meet." 

Andy swallowed. "So...the scene I want to role play..."

Beck waited. 

"Um, come with me..."

Beck walked after him to another room. He blinked. In it was a wooden structure that vaguely resembled a cross, with handcuffs attached to the end of the nailed plank. Beck turned to him. "You...what?"

"I handcuff myself to that!" Andy said, excitedly. "And then you come and rescue me, telling me that I'm safe and you'll protect me..." his voice trailed away again. "And then, afterwards, you can get out of that suit, and wear that for the aftercare..."

Beck's eyes followed Andy's finger. He was pointing at what looked like a hideous grey onesie. Beck looked at him, contempt starting to unfurl across his face. "Please. You're not serious."

"I'm very serious." Andy nodded. "Having someone like you do this would mean so much. I mean, you look like a Superhero in street clothes!"

"Thank you," Beck said nodding. 

"Um, when you rescue me, I like being held tightly, but not too tightly, ok?"

"Got it." Beck nodded again. "Have you got a safeword?"

Andy blushed. "I-no."

"Well then," Beck said, as though pausing for careful consideration, "how about...Mysterio?"

Andy's face brightened. "Mysterio as the safeword? That's cool!"

"Isn't it?" Beck responded, smiling. 

"So, I'll just get into position..."

"I wouldn't bother," Beck said, shrugging. 

"What?" Andy looked at Beck, disbelief starting to colour his features. "You're not refusing to...I thought you were into this!"

"Yeah, well," Beck looked at him with open contempt. "Its easy to fool someone when they're already fooling themselves."

"I-" Andy looked as though he was struggling to find words. "What about the whole, not being lucky in finding someone?!"

Beck took another step towards him, his features contorted with menace. Andy gasped and shrank back. 

"People," Beck said softly, "need to believe in something. Today, they'll believe in anything."

The flash of the knife entered the other man's line of vision. As the blood began to gush, Beck stood, watching dispassionately as Andy slumped to the floor. Beck crouched down. "But surely," he said, softly, as the dying man gasped, "even you couldn't believe I'd wear that onesie?"

A choking gasp was Beck's answer. He immediately unstrapped and pulled off the breastplate, then ripped off the cloak. He looked at the body suit, and decided his jeans and shirt could go over it until he got back to his place. He kicked off the boots. Gathering them into a large plastic bag, he tied on his own sneakers and prepared to leave the townhouse. Then he went over, and picked up the onesie.

"Oh well," he muttered. "Could be good for lounging in." Shoving it into the bag, he turned and left, Andy lying in a pool of blood behind him.


	6. All You Can Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck isn't the sweetest date.

Beck took a sip of the weak coffee from the plastic cup, and grimaced slightly. He scanned round the room. Another eleven individuals were sitting in a circle, and he eyed them all discreetly, trying to find the target. 

_There you are_.

A shy looking woman, whose dark hair fell forward, shifted in her seat. Beck appraised her. She looked of a relatively normal size, and he let his eyes rake over her. 

A man who was sitting in the centre, cleared his throat. "Welcome, everyone, to our group this evening. Now, as you know, this is a place where you can openly talk about the difficulties you're experiencing. Difficulties, with food, with your body image, and with how you think others perceived you. Now, we always like to get to know new people, so...Aaron? Do you think you could begin for us?"

Beck nodded, and cleared his throat. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Bucky!! Look at this!!"

Barnes glimpsed up from the data he was pondering. "What is it, kid?"

"This." Peter placed his copy of _The New York Post_ down on the table. "See this?"

Bucky picked it up. "A young man found slaughtered at his home...body had laid there for a couple of days...police were alerted when the cleaner arrived and found the body..." Barnes looked at him, slightly puzzled. "Its a somewhat tacky news article."

"The victim had his throat slashed."

"And?"

"He worked for a tech giant...run by a Loki Laufeyson."

At this, Barnes blinked. "Laufeyson? He was selling data to Hammer."

Peter looked at Barnes. "I...didn't know that." He paused, and then continued. "But, Bucky, the guy had his throat slashed, and I thought, what if its our guy? And I didn't know Laufeyson worked with Hammer, but what if this guy was a techie who didn't like that, and-"

"Yeah," Barnes nodded. "Not everyone's comfortable with the idea of profiting from weaponry."

"And...our guy...he seems to kill people who are a problem..."

"We still haven't fully established it _is_ a guy."

"Um...the guy who died - Andy - he was gay." Peter swallowed. "Maybe he was trawling contacts, the internet...there was an interesting arrangement in the bedroom."

Bucky looked at Peter, respect starting to show on his face. "You may be onto something."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So..." Beck paused, a slightly nervous tremor in his voice, "I was a model."

A slight ripple went round the room, and Beck waited. The he continued. "I began modelling when I was about 21 - mostly catalogues and runway - and there was a lot of pressure to stay in shape. I was going to the gym about two hours a day, and my agent would constantly niggle at me about what I ate. There was one show when the designer freaked as the shirt I needed to wear was about half an inch too tight, and he immediately told me I was too fat to be on the runway again. My agent told me to lose weight or he'd fire me." 

Another pause. The room was still. 

"I started using laxatives. They helped me feel empty. Soon I was using four or five a day, and being really strict with what I ate - only some green vegetables, and a slice of bread. Perhaps some chicken. But I felt hungry, constantly. I'd go home in the evening and eat. And eat. And eat. On a really bad night I'd get through fast food orders, ice cream, and whatever I could find in the house. Then I'd go and vomit. And sometimes I'd do this twice. My agent didn't know. My family didn't know. My friends were in the business, so they would have encouraged me. So I kept it to myself, until I went to a photo shoot one morning and blacked out. A photographer's assistant called 911 for me, and she even went with me in the ambulance to hospital, holding my hand. I'll always be grateful to her. She could see I needed a friend, and she stayed with me whilst the consultant visited. She told me I was at risk of a heart attack due to my constant vomiting, and I was lucky I was alive. I was 20lb underweight at that point."

Beck paused again. He swore he heard someone sniffle. 

"I decided I need a life that didn't involve worrying over what I looked like. So I started again. I now work as a Youth Counsellor, helping kids to a better life."

At this, he heard a murmur of admiration. He looked up. She was looking right at him, her face a picture of near-affection. He smiled at her before continuing. "I also go to the gym, but not for two hours a day, I lift, and packed on muscle. I've decided I need to be strong. But I still feel the urge. I still can only keep certain foods in my apartment. I'd like to be able to keep all of them."

Beck finished, and suddenly, he heard applause. The leader of the group was looking at him, with unabashed admiration. "Thank you, Aaron," he said, his tone gentle. "That was incredible. But let's take a break. Everyone be back in ten minutes, OK?"

People murmured assent, and began to move out of their chairs. The woman got up, and looked as if she were about to approach him, but went outside. He followed her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"There is no pattern."

"Maybe that's the point."

"Kid. I'm beginning to think you're always right."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck stepped outside. She was there, in front of the building, her hands in her bag. He swallowed. "Hey."

She looked at him. "Hi!" Pulling out a pack of chewing gum, she offered him a stick. "I know, its a terrible habit, but it...tricks my brain, and makes me think I don't need to eat."

Beck frowned. "That's not good." He accepted a stick. "You need to eat."

"I know, its just..." her voice faltered. "I used to be 40lb heavier, and-"

"You look really good." Beck looked at her, and was slightly surprised at the note of sincerity in his voice. Unwrapping the stick, he put it in his mouth. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk?"

She looked at him, blushing slightly. "I...don't know. I mean, you're you, and I'm-"

"Someone I'm interested in getting to know," he said, softly. "There's a little bistro about a block away, and its nearly 12pm, so...early lunch?"

She started to laugh. "This is so ironic. We're at a support group for disordered eating, and we're going out to eat."

"Oh, yes, we are."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"This guy...had some interesting sides to him." Barnes was flicking through the photos of police evidence. "He was into some quite specific fetishes. Mostly centring around cosplay."

"Is that all?"

"No...he also liked being restrained. Clearly our killer isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Isn't afraid to go along with whatever he needs to do."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"You really should eat something more substantial than salad, Lauren."

She looked at him, over the top of her water glass. "I'm...I like salad."

"But..." Beck looked at her. "Really, if you eat what you like when you want it, you'll be fine. Trust me."

She smiled. "You have...the most amazing body. So perhaps I will take you advice."

"How do you know its amazing?" Beck teased, his eyes levelling with hers. "You haven't see it in full."

"So...what are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." Beck reached over and took her hand - "I'm saying I like you, and maybe, we should get to know each other more intimately."

"I'm not sure you really want to see me like that, I have some stretch marks, and I could probably do with losing a little bit more..."

"Please." Beck leaned back in his seat. "Stop it. I can see your outline, and I like it. If you were still heavier, I'd probably like that as well. Because...I like you. We've been talking about common interests. You're the first person I've met whose read _The Fountainhead_ and can actually discuss it."

"Well," she looked at him, "I..." then she grinned, mischeavously."My apartment is only a couple of blocks away. And if you're really good, I'll let you share my ice cream." She stopped. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you..."

"Yes," he said, nodding, "yes I do. An important part of recovery is learning to be able to eat again. I love ice cream."

"Excellent," she nodded. "Is it OK, if I eat my salad?"

Beck nodded, smiling. "Absolutely."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So...Hammer, then his girlfriend, then a man who worked for Laufeyson." Peter looked at Barnes. "Who could be behind this?"

Barnes scratched his jaw. "I'd suggest Tony Stark, but I'm not sure hiring an assassin to knock out the competition would sit well with his Philanthropy." Barnes looked at Peter. "Maybe there is no connection. Maybe its just random coincidences. But let's be clear about this - whoever this is uses people, Pete. They seem to hone in on people's weaknesses. Strike when they're vulnerable. Hammer was poisoned on vacation, his girlfriend in hospital, in shock. Then we have this guy, who was clearly just lonely and looking for a date. He's a predator. That's why he's so dangerous."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Get into bed."

"Um...can I just put this t-shirt on?"

"Oh, come on," Beck said, softly. "I'd rather see you. Now, come on, and get into bed. With me."

"OK." She moved, slightly hesitantly, over to the bed where Beck was already an outline under the covers. "Gorgeous," he whispered as she approached. "Now. Get in, and get on top of me."

"I-" she hesitated. "Am - I might be too heavy for you."

Beck huffed at her. "I'm a big boy. I can more than take your weight. And you look a lot lighter than you think. Get on top of me."

She moved, and straddled him. He smiled. "Perfect."

"Really?" 

"Oh yeah, perfect. Absolutely perfect"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So where should we look for him?"

"I think he'll let us know."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"That was...amazing." Beck leaned back and closed his eyes. "God, you're good to hold onto."

She blushed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"oh, I did. And for what its worth Lauren, I really like you. I mean that. And, also for what its worth, I really am sorry."

"Sorry...about what?" her face was a mask of confusion. 

"For this." 

In a split second, Beck's hands were round her throat and he flipped her over onto her back. She struggled, clawing at him desperately, succeeding in inflicting a light scratch down his jaw. Beck watched as her face reddened, then turned purple, before the choking finally started to end, and her breathing stopped. 

Swallowing, he carefully pulled the covers over her, and closed her eyes. He leaned over. "I'm sorry, honey," he whispered, kissing her on the cheek, before turning, grabbing his clothes, and leaving the room.


	7. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Bucky make a shocking discovery. Beck finds a use for his onesie.

"Parker!"

Peter looked up from his hastily scrawled notes as Sam Wilson's voice boomed out. He jumped up from his seat. "Yes, Sir?"

"A file has come through for you." Sam was sitting at his desk, tapping the screen of his desktop with a pencil. "Apparently its images of nurses - male nurses - from the hospital where Katya Solokova was found dead."

Peter suddenly felt as though someone had tipped ice water over him. He swallowed and looked at Sam, almost nervously. "Are you sure?"

"I don't waste time and make things up," Sam said, almost good naturedly. "Especially when I've just been told we're one down in Logistics today, so planning any operation is going to take longer." He looked at Peter. "Be prepared for an email with large attachment."

"Yes, Sir." Peter practically scampered back to his desk. Then, as if an afterthought, he turned to Sam. "Whose missing?"

"A Logistics Officer." Sam shrugged. "Probably sick. But they were helping us plan a major raid on Tooms." Sam shook his head. "Still. Can't get the staff."

Peter was already logging in to open the file.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Where were you yesterday?"

Beck raised his eyebrows. "I was on a job."

"You were gone most of the day," William almost chided. "We do need to stay in touch, Boss. Which job?"

Beck shrugged. "A little private contract." He sat down, opposite William, stirring his Americano. Sitting in the coffee shop, they looked like two friends. He smiled at William. "Any news on the next job?"

William shook his head. "No. Nothing. Vanko hasn't been in touch, or Laufeyson. But, maybe we - you - should be more careful."

Beck raised his eyebrows as he took a slow sip. "Why?"

"There was an article. In the _Post_. " William lowered his voice. "That computer geek you laid out...the neighbours alerted the police, they took forensic evidence."

"I wore gloves."

"Your fingerprints will be in the house."

"So will everyone who was ever there," Beck countered. "And you know the drill. Money talks. Toss a few bribes...the cops forget. Laufeyson is not going to let some beat cop or first rung Detective find who dispatches of his problems. Neither will Vanko."

"They can't stop SHIELD."

Beck looked at William, and smiled, placidly. "What makes you say that?"

"It was a SHIELD agent that found Solokova." William's voice sounded nervous. "I told you."

"Yeah. And if they find me, they'll put a bullet in my head. And yours. And Janice's. And Veronica's. And Gunterman's." Beck stood up, pausing to snatch William's half finished muffin, and taking a bite. "So, I guess I - we - are gonna have to work really hard to stop the SHIELD agent, that allegedly wants to find me, or...it all ends. But, as he - or she - hasn't found me yet, I doubt they will. I doubt they'll even notice the little gift I left them."

William looked at Beck, who was taking another bite of the muffin. "What do you mean...gift?"

Beck shrugged. "They'll find out. I have a fitting. Catch you later."

William sat stunned as the younger man pivoted and exited through the door. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Its not you...its not you...its not you..." Peter frowned in concentration as he flicked through the pictures. "No...no..."

"Hey. What you up to?"

"Oh, Bucky!" Peter practically jumped. "I'm going through the pictures that the hospital sent. Trying to find the nurse."

"Nurse?"

"The one who spoke to me in the washroom before I found poor Katya." Peter continued scrolling. "He might have seen something. Seen the killer." Peter looked at Barnes. "I don't know why I'm saying that. From what I remember, I think he is our man."

"You really think he's the killer?"

Peter paused. "That nurse...he was...good looking. Remember what you translated? Hunky, baby faced? If he's on this list, then he's just a good looking nurse. If not, he could be..."

"You're drawing some interesting conclusions here, kid." Barnes rubbed a hand over his face. "Look, I need coffee, do you want one?"

"Please. Milk, four sugars."

Barnes' eyebrows shot up. "I'm paging David Cronenberg." He turned back to Peter. "Many more to go through?"

"I'm done." Peter bit his lip. "The guy in the washroom isn't on this. He's not listed as staff."

"Agency?" Barnes hazarded. "Hospitals do get in temporary staff."

"Bucky!" Peter threw his hands on the desk in frustration. "It's him. This guy was...so good looking!"

"Careful, Pete." Bucky said, as he walked away. "I'll start thinking you have a very inappropriate crush."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Could you hold your arms out, Quentin?"

Beck obliged as Janice pulled the tape measure round his chest, listening to the older woman tut. "You've lost weight."

"Well, I've been busy," Beck reminded her. "There's been a lot of work on."

"You need to look after yourself Quentin, you'll end up wasting away!"

"Maybe," Beck mused as she released the tape, "I need to find myself a woman. Someone who can cook for me, feed me, love me..." he turned to Janice and winked. "Know anybody?"

At this, she blushed. "Now, come on. Behave." She paused as he re-adjusted his shirt. "We're done."

Smiling, Beck walked out of her apartment, checking that no-one was in the hall. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Peter?"

Parker looked up from his desk. "Yeah?"

"I need you to come with me."

Peter got up, and grabbed his jacket, following Bucky out of the area. "What's up?"

"We need to make a house call, on a colleague, who hasn't been in for two days." Bucky punched the numbers for the lift. "So we're going to find out what's been going on."

Peter was silent as Bucky drove. They pulled up in front of a modest townhouse, and Peter got out first. "OK, wait." Bucky followed quickly and ran up the stairs. "If there is something here, I go in first."

Peter waited as the door was opened. Bucky walked in. "Hello?"

Silence. 

The two men began to walk slowly through the house, noting that the kitchen table held two mugs, and checked the lounge. Bucky turned to Pete. "OK, upstairs."

Peter listened intently as they walked. They got to the top of the landing, and realised that one door was shut. Bucky pulled his gun out of his holster, and leaned against the door, pushing it open, and going inside. 

"Parker, in here, now!!"

Peter walked in, and stood aghast. The young woman lying in the bed was covered by the sheets, but the paleness of her face, and blueish tinge to her lips, told the two men all they needed to know. Bucky swallowed. "Oh, God." His face was ashen.

"She...was one of ours?"

"Yeah. Logistics." Bucky walked over to her, and picked up an arm, carefully feeling for a pulse. "He pulled down the sheet. "Look at her neck, Pete."

Parker looked, and wanted to vomit. Angry red indentions were round her neck, clearly the result of fingers. He looked at the bedside. An open packet of condoms, and two glasses, both of which looked as though they had the residue of red wine within them, told the two men all they needed to know.

"Call the coroner." Bucky's jaw was set. "We need to find out everything that happened here. This is...obscene."

"Well..."

"Just don't say it, Parker." Bucky's tone was granite. "I know you're dying to say it, and if I were in your position, I would even say it. But at the moment, this isn't some billionaire's girlfriend, this isn't some rich ex-wife, this isn't some geek who pissed off his boss, this is one of our own. And its taken us two days to even bother to find her!"

"But, Barnes-"

"I said, save it!"

"There's - just look!!"

Bucky turned to where Peter was pointing. Lying on the sheet was a note. Two words. _Sorry, honey_. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Please!" The man was shouting in desperation as Beck approached, holding a Taurus PT111, striding across the floor of the deserted industrial warehouse. "Just, stop, man! I don't even know who you are!!"

Beck looked at him, coolly. "That's... kind of the point."

"Is this...a robbery? I can give you money!"

Beck raised the gun at point blank range. "I'm getting paid more than you can give me. Your boss is very generous." 

"Please! Why are you doing this?"

Beck shrugged. "I don't know. Ask Eugene Tooms. Maybe it has something to do with you stealing his parts to sell for yourself." Beck clicked his tongue. "Whatever happened to employee loyalty, these days?" 

As he fired the gun, the man made a desperate lunge, and the bullet lodged straight in his chest, splattering Beck. He looked down at the spray of scarlet that now decorated the grey and black onesie. 

"Well, thank you Andy," he muttered as he stepped over the dying man. "You've saved my Gucci shirt." He looked down as the blood pooled on the floor. "Please excuse me. I have a date."


	8. Rude Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief confrontation.

Beck opened one gritty eye as the banging on the door continued. He began to sit upright, yawning. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was already a little after ten am. Pushing himself out of bed, he reached for the soft black towelling robe slung over the bedroom chair, pulling it on, and tying it at the waist. 

As he walked towards the door of his apartment, he frowned. If it was William or Gunterman...Beck paused, checking that the small knife was in the pocket of the robe. He opened the door, only to be greeted with the weather beaten face of Ivan Vanko.

Beck's mind came awake with a shocking jerk. How long had the Russian been standing out there?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"We failed her." Peter was sitting almost paralysed at his desk. "We failed her."

Barnes sat down heavily. "We did." He looked at the younger man. "We need to find who did this... and we need to find out why."

"It was him," Peter said, nodding. "I'm sure of it."

Barnes grimaced. "I'm inclined to agree, but I'd like some evidence."

"The note," Peter looked at Barnes. "It was so obviously a message to us."

"Well, either it is him...or we have a new Ted Bundy breaking out." Barnes bit his lip. "I think its highly likely that the autopsy will find evidence of sexual intercourse. So it could have been a date, or a boyfriend."

"Or it could have been him, posing to make her think he's something else."

"But where would they meet though?" Barnes paused to gather his thoughts. "The gym? A bookstore? An evening class on Japanese?"

Peter looked at him. "Perhaps...we should find out more about her. Find out why our guy - if it was him - was interested."

Bucky stood up. "Agreed. Let's go and talk to HR."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck suddenly found himself pushed roughly backwards, Vanko's arm across his throat. Vanko used a foot to kick the door closed, whilst pushing Beck up against the wall, his forearm pressing against the younger man's throat. "Now, Quentin, perhaps you can explain what you're playing at?"

"I'm...not...playing...at...anything.." Beck's voice was emerging in short staccato gasps, and he pulled out the knife, holding it to Ivan's face. "Drop...your....arm..."

Vanko relented, taking one step back and alleviating the pressure. Beck choked slightly, his skin tone starting to cool from the near bright red it was beginning to colour. "Tell me what you're playing at."

"I'm not playing at anything." Beck's eyes bored into Vanko's. "I get that if Laufeyson finds out I'm working for you, I'm dead. If Stark finds out I'm working for you, you're dead. But if Nick Fury finds out I'm working for you, then we're all dead. And Stark will continue to develop that technology which you claim he stole from your father. I got rid of Hammer. I got rid of his annoying yappy girlfriend. I'm getting rid of anyone Laufeyson thinks it selling his secrets. I'm clearing out the competition for you and him. So eventually, you have a clear path to get rid of your only competition...Stark. You know the deal. Laufeyson thinks he's comfortable...then he's dead. That leaves Stark. But I can't do it, if I'm dead."

"You killed a SHIELD agent." Vanko's voice was soft, but cold. 

"I left a warning to SHIELD," Beck countered. "A warning of what could happen if they continue to try and find me. I know they are. A SHIELD agent was at the hospital when I murdered Hammer's latest. I bet he's looking for me...so I killed one of theirs. Shame, she was nice."

Vanko looked at him. "Do you know the agent's name?"

Beck smirked. "I know a lot. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get up. I'm meeting someone this afternoon."

"Who?!" Vanko demanded. 

"Well, a date." Beck raised his eyebrows. "I do need a life, Ivan."

"Anyone I know?"

Beck smirked. "Trust me, you'll get to."


	9. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter makes a discovery.

"What do you gentlemen need to know?"

Bucky and Peter exchanged a brief glance, before turning to the Head of HR. She smiled at them, before tapping her finger on the thick file on her desk. Peter opened his mouth to speak. 

"We need to know about Lauren. About what she was like, she did..."

The woman frowned. "This is confidential."

Barnes cut in. "This is also a murder enquiry. We found her strangled in her bed. By someone she met. So, if you can provide us with any insight as to who it was, and perhaps where, we'd really appreciate it. We've been to her apartment. Nothing there to suggest anything untoward. So if you could please shed any light on her life, we'd be very grateful."

The woman swallowed. "Well, there is something..."

"What?" Peter was aware his voice sounded strained, but he desperately wanted to know _something_.

"She was attending a support group for disorded eating sufferers. We were allowing her to leave an hour early on Wednesday to attend meetings, every other week. But I think this group also met on Saturday mornings, alternate weeks."

Peter breathed. A potential lead. "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes. It was held at the Teresa Community Hall, downtown. We had to contact the organisers to check that she was attending."

"Do you have a phone number for them?"

"Yes, we do." The woman swallowed. "Look, I'm only letting you have this information because of the circumstances."

"Its perfectly fine." Barnes stood up. "Everything will be handled with utmost discretion."

"Thank you."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Oh, God, you're so sexy." Beck took a bite of salad and pointed his fork at her. "You really are, you know that?"

"You're such a flatterer."

"No, I'm actually very honest." He swallowed the salad, and reached for his beer glass. "I'm probably too honest."

She laughed, and reached for her wine. "I'll bear that in mind."

"Do. Because it means that when I say, 'I want to see you again,' I actually mean it."

"Well," she paused. "How about tomorrow. Come to my place?"

Beck nodded, and took another bite of salad. "I was really hoping you'd say that."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Teresa Community Centre was a friendly, welcoming place, Peter decided, as he took in the soft cream coloured walls, light beige carpet, and the cosy office that Matt, the group's organiser, was sitting in. He'd offered them both coffee, and now Peter felt it was time to start the questions. 

"So did Lauren come here?"

Matt nodded, and sighed. "Yeah. She'd been coming for about five months. She'd undergone treatment for bulimia. Her weight had fluctuated quite a bit, but she'd also lot a sizeable amount, and stopped bingeing and purging. She was coming here to really look for that support, that she was on the right path. She was open, honest. People liked her."

"Did she seem different to you, the last time she was here?"

Matt frowned. "To be honest, no. But there was a new guy, or newish guy. He certainly caught everyone's attention."

Peter leaned forward. "New guy?" His heart was starting to hammer as though he'd run a 100 metre sprint. "What...did he look like?"

Matt looked at them. "Ridiculously good looking, if I'm honest. But then he did claim that he was a former model. Who'd struggled with keeping his weight down."

"A former model?" Barnes looked at him, quizzically. "Struggled with that? So I'm guessing he wasn't a stick insect then?"

"No." Matt looked at them. "He was kind of bulky. Muscular. But like I said," Matt smiled wryly, "everyone's eyes were on him. Especially hers."

"What, Lauren?" Peter shifted in his seat. 

"Yeah, I saw them talking outside, at the end of the meet." Matt bit his lip. "I didn't think anything of it, to be perfectly honest. People are allowed to make connections."

"Did he have blue eyes?" Peter blurted out. Matt looked at him. "Well, his eyes were shielded, he was wearing a cap, but yes, I think they were blue. Or blue-ish."

Peter shot to his feet. "Thank you, you've been very helpful." Turning, he hurried out the room. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck placed the strip of gum in his mouth, and began to chew it. "Sorry, I'm starving." He paused, and pointed the gun. "Could you stop moving? Its very annoying."

"Look, just..what do you want?!"

"I want..." Beck took another step closer, his black jeans creasing as he walked - "what you owe me. And what you owe me is far more than your willing to pay, Laufeyson. You know that. Do you have any idea how humiliating that job was? He wanted me to dress in a onesie, after wearing a ridiculous suit of armour that would make Thor blush. And you thought you could get away with only paying me half!"

Loki Laufeyson, the data tech giant, was practically crawling on the floor. Beck had entered, giving a vicious roundhouse kick to the abdomen, winding the other man. As Loki protested, Beck became increasingly bored. 

"I can't pay you the full amount, Beck." Loki tried to sit up, then pull himself up. "You left him there in the house! You could have been found!"

Beck looked at the other man. "There's a SHIELD contingent apparently after me. There's just one problem. They're so embarrassingly incompetent that they haven't even traced me. Despite the fact I've stood in washroom next to one, and also regrettably killed a colleague. Which was a shame. She was hot. But, they didn't find me. They've found no DNA, nothing, that could trace me. So stop lying to me, Laufeyson, and give me what I want, before I blow your head off. And let's think about this - you gone, Hammer gone, Stark reigns supreme. You need me to take out Stark - after you've inflated your stocks and shares by making it clear that he needs to buy from you."

"But...who told you to kill Hammer?"

Beck looked at Loki, smiled and pointed the gun at his forehead. "If I told you that, I really will have to kill you."

"OK!" Loki as on his knees, getting up. "All right, Beck. You'll get the money. But now you get out, and you wait for me to contact you. Understood?"

Beck smiled, lowering the gun. "Perfectly."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Well, this is progress," Barnes commented. "A handsome bulky man goes to a support group, and he apparently has a faint resemblance to the nurse you saw...but there's no DNA. There was no DNA at the house of that geeky guy, there was no DNA on her. He's a professional. A man of mystery."

"Well, he's bound to make a mistake sooner or later." Peter sighed. "Then when he does-"

"Peter - he isn't. He's a professional assassin. He won't ever make a mistake." Barnes sighed. "Anyway, didn't you say you had to go soon?"

"Oh my god, you're right!" Peter looked at his watch. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Yeah. Enjoy."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Beck?"

"Ivan."

"So, did you see him?"

"Yeah. He's kind of scared now. He's not going to bother you."

"Good. Now, Quentin-"

"Sorry, Ivan. Prior engagement."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter hastily got out of the elevator, and adjusted his tie, knocked on the door. 

Suddenly, the door swung open, and May Parker walked towards him, beaming. "Peter! So glad you came over!"

"Hey May," he said stopping slightly to hug the petite woman. "Its been a while, I'm sorry, but I've been so busy at work and-"

"No, its fine, come in." She took his hand, ushering him into her cosy apartment. "Now, if you'll come through-"

"May, is that your nephew?"

Peter blinked. "Who- who's that?!"

Suddenly, Peter's eyes were fully focused on the man standing before him. Who looked oddly familiar. Who was flashing a grin that was more than a little wolfish. 

"Hi Peter," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Quentin Beck."


	10. Dinner With Quentin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very uncomfortable meal.

Peter could not believe his eyes. He opened his mouth, then closed it. "I..."

"Sorry, May," Beck bit his lip and turned to her. "This was a bad idea, I shouldn't have insisted on meeting your nephew like this. I'd better go-"

"No!" Peter blurted out, the initial bolt of shock beginning to clear. "No, I'm really pleased to meet you, Mr Beck, I-"

"Quentin," he corrected gently. "Its just - May talks about you all the time, and I felt, as she and I are-" he blushed slightly - "well, getting on so well, that I suggested that we should meet."

"How long have you-" Peter looked at May. "Oh, only a few weeks." She looked at him. "Well, this is technically our fifth date. Except - well I do talk about you, and I felt I couldn't not introduce the two of you, so I thought a friendly dinner was a good way to break the ice."

Peter looked from May to Quentin. "Yeah, I think its a good idea." He swallowed. "Can I help in the kitchen?"

"Its all done." May batted his suggestion away. "Its Chili, with tacos. Is that OK?"

"Perfect." Peter nodded. 

"Quentin made the guacomole, you will not believe how good it is!"

Peter looked at Beck ."You...made the guacomole?"

"Yes, I like to cook, and experiment." Beck smiled. "Don't worry, I'm eating it as well!"

Peter nodded. "That's good."

"Peter, are you all right?" May looked at him. "You seem a little nervous."

"No, I'm fine." Peter took his jacket off, and loosened his tie. "I'll just get some water."

May nodded. "Of course."

Peter headed into the kitchen. As he ran the cold tap, he put his wrists underneath them to cool his blood. He was sure Beck could hear it pulsing through his veins. The older man came into the kitchen and smiled at him. 

Peter looked at him. "You..."

"Yes?" 

"You were at-"

"What?" Beck looked confused. "Are you OK, Pete? I know I'm repeating myself, but-" he bit his lip. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," Peter shook his head. "I guess I'm just...hungry."

Beck smiled. "Fair enough."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dinner was an exercise in slow torture. Whilst May gave the impression of hanging on Beck's every word, and he repaying her by making adoring eyes at her, Beck also seemed determined to force feed Peter to death. 

"Do you want some more guacomole?" he asked, offering the bowl for the third time. 

Peter swallowed. "I'm good at the moment, thanks."

"Sure." The older man put the bowl down, and took a sip of beer. Peter looked at him. Clad in a black shirt, his hair neatly styled, he bore a resemblance to the rumpled nurse from the hospital washroom, but Peter frowned. Beck caught his eye. "You OK?"

"Yeah." Peter nodded, hastily scooping up another forkful of chili. "Just...getting full." He then looked at Beck. "So, Quentin....what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a translator. Freelance."

Peter blinked. "You're...a translator?"

May nodded. "That's how we met. Quentin did some work for us, and brought it into the office, and well..." she placed a hand on his arm - "that's how we met."

Peter looked at him. "So..you speak Italian?"

Quentin shook his head. "No, I'm not an Italian speaker."

"How about Russian?" Peter pressed. 

Beck looked at him. "No, I'm not a Russian speaker. In fact, I wouldn't understand a word of it. I'm a French and Spanish speaker."

Peter looked at his plate. Beck was smiling at him, kindly. "Well, I just find it very strange you're a translator. I mean, I would think that you were...a model."

Beck looked at Peter, chewing slowly on a taco. "Interesting thought. Very flattering."

May laughed. "Peter, please. Don't feed his ego!" 

Beck turned to her, running his hand up her arm. "He's really sweet."

Peter persisted. "I mean...don't you think you look like a model?"

Beck looked at him. "Heightwise, yes. But everything else...I'm about 40lb too heavy. Plus I love food. I'd never get on a runway. I prefer to have a normal job, so I can eat."

"Well, you surprise me." Peter said. "I'd have thought someone like you would be a dead cert to be a model."

"Peter," Beck spoke patiently. "The prospect of having to starve myself and be unable to choose what I eat would be a problem. I can assure you modelling is not something I'd ever consider." He leaned over and to Peter's side, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Plus your aunt likes something to hold onto, OK?"

As he whispered, Peter felt his stomach churn. He looked at the other man, and decided to take another tack. "What about nursing?"

"No chance. I'm scared of blood."

Peter blinked. "You're scared of blood?"

"Yeah, Pete, I actually feel faint at the sight of it." Beck looked at him. 

"Peter come on," May was finding it hard to contain her laughter. "He's not going to be a model, because I like him cuddly, and never a nurse because he hates blood. So, a translator it is. And the work he did for us was really good." 

Peter nodded. "OK."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After what seemed interminable, the meal ended. Beck offered to clear, and Peter offered to help. Once out in the kitchen, Beck turned to him. "You seem very intent on flattering me, Peter. Thank you."

"Well, I'm just interested in getting to know you." Peter nodded. 

"Good," Beck said, smiling. "I'd hate for us to get off on the wrong foot. For you to misunderstand my intentions."

Peter looked at him. "You're - you're-"

Beck shrugged. "A friendly neighbourhood translator, who happens to really like your aunt. Who really likes me back." He smiled at Peter. "Now, don't you agree that's good?"

Stunned, Peter could only watch as the older man exited through the kitchen door.


	11. Assume The Position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck's work can be interesting.

"Can you just sign here please, Mr White?"

Quentin smiled at the blonde woman as she handed him a clipboard. He pulled a black biro out of his suit pocket, and did as she requested. 

"Now, if you'd just like to wait, your therapist will be with you very soon." The receptionist smiled. "Oh, can I confirm you have written your safeword on the sheet?"

Beck nodded. "Yes, I have."

"Excellent. Just walk down the corridor, and turn to the right. Your therapist will be in the blue room." She smiled. "And, please don't worry- we are completely discreet. Any correspondence we send to your home address will look like a piece of junk mail, and therefore, if your wife opens it, she won't know anything."

Beck seemed to wilt with relief. "That's great. I love my wife, but she won't-" he blushed, and straightened himself. 

"Its no problem, Mr White. We consider ourselves to be skilled professionals, and frankly, the services we provide here have saved many marriages. We will help you with your desires." 

"Thank you," Beck replied smoothly, and went in the direction he'd been told to. As he walked, he adjusted the tie he was wearing, noting with amusement the flash of a gold wedding band on his left hand. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"He's dating my aunt," Peter told Barnes. Barnes always stoical expression actually moved. "What?"

"He's dating my aunt!" Peter was aware his voice was becoming slightly choked, and he blinked. "The man who has killed these people! He's dating Aunt May! God knows what they were doing together last night!"

"Is it possible," Bucky said, mildly, "that he's not the person we're looking for, and all they did last night was play Scrabble. Or maybe watch HBO. Or maybe she just tucked him into bed and read _Goodnight, Moon_ to him."

Peter flushed. "Stop it."

"Peter," Bucky responded, his tone still mild. "You have got to calm down. This is not going to help. Now, I need a description. Because if he is him, we need to find something - anything - we need to get that picture. Let's get you down to profiling."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Take off your clothes."

Beck complied, looking at the beautiful woman who stood in front of him, in an immaculate white medical outfit. Her long black curly hair was pulled back, and her beautifully flicked eyeliner only enhanced her features. 

"Don't look at me!"

Beck immediately trained his gaze on the floor. He continued unbuttoning, and let the white shirt slide off his shoulders, exposing his chest and abdomen. She was looking at him, and he smirked slightly as she did a barely detectable double take.

Suddenly, he felt a stinging slap hit the side of his face. He looked straight at her, annoyed and also slightly shocked. "How dare you!"

Her response was to slap him on the other side of his face. "Don't answer me back. Take off your clothes!"

Beck untied his belt, unzipped his fly, and let his dress slacks fall to the floor, exposing his toned, muscled legs. She again gave him a coolly appraising glance. "Come here."

Beck walked forward. She gestured to a bench. "Lie down, face first."

He did, and heard the sound of buckles being tied. He knew it was round his ankles, and around his wrists. 

"Tell me," she said, softly, "have you been bad?"

_You don't know the half of it, honey_, he thought, idly, but out loud he simply said "Yes, Valkyrie."

He felt her hand running over the curve of his buttocks. He swallowed and pressed his face into the padded bench, trying to ignore the stirring at the front of his black boxers. She let her hand linger. "Have you been bad?"

"Yes, Valkyrie."

Suddenly, he felt a hard slap against his left buttock. He shifted. Her response was to slap him again, on the right cheek. Beck gritted his teeth. 

"You are bad."

Another slap, against the left buttock. Another slap, against the right buttock.

"You deserve this."

Beck nodded. "I do."

Her response was to slap him again, but harder. Beck could feel the sting as her hand lingered on the silk. "You are bad. Very bad."

"Oh, I am." Beck breathed, as she slapped him again. "I'm very bad."

She slapped him again. "You're a bad boy."

"I am."

Another slap. "Just bad."

"I am." 

At this, she began to slap him harder, and rhythmically. He felt the stinging was beginning to linger, then become a constant thrum. His fingers began to clench. "Mysterio!"

She stopped. "OK," she breathed, and he felt her fingers brush against his ankles, as she started to unbuckle him. "I'll stop."

Beck, his buttocks sore, nodded. "Thank you." 

"Oh, I don't want you to have a Drop!" her voice was gentle, a contrast to the harsh and stern tone she'd adopted during the scene. "What do you like for Aftercare?"

Beck swallowed, sounding almost tearful. "My onesie. Its in the bag. Please."

She opened the black holdall, and pulled out the grey and black garment. "Here." Her voice was still gentle, reassuring. "Would you like me to zip you up?"

Beck pushed himself off the bench, and nodded. Stepping into the onesie, he turned, and she pulled the zip. As he turned round again, he shuddered. "What's wrong?"

"I just..." Beck choked slightly. "My wife...what if she thinks I'm a pervert, there's something wrong with me?"

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her tone was warm, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Its good you come here and experience this."

"Thank you." Beck snuffled. She smiled. "Chocolate?"

"Yes, please."

She turned, and opened a small fridge. In it were bottles of water and various snacks. Beck swallowed as she turned. "Here you go."

"Thank you." He took the piece and put it in his mouth. She smiled at him. "Are you feeling better?"

"Oh yes." He swallowed the chocolate, and leaning forward, took her face in his hands. "Very much so."

She looked at him, her eyes widening. "What- what are you-you know you're not allowed to touch me-"

Beck looked at her, dispassionately. "This is what happens when you try and blackmail Loki Laufeyson. He sends me to deal with you." 

Her eyes were wide with shock. "Loki - its - "

Beck said nothing, merely twisting her neck. As it cracked, he let her slump to the floor. 

Grabbing his discarded suit, shirt and tie, he shoved them in his bag, pulling out a black leather jacket that he pulled over the onesie and zipped up, followed by a black baseball cap. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he unlocked the door, then hurried down the hallway, pushing open a door marked Fire Escape. Out in the fresh air, he took a deep breath, and began to walk away from the clinic.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Would you like a cup of coffee, Quentin?"

He smiled at May Parker. "That would be great." He shifted in his chair. His buttocks were still red, he'd noticed when showering at his apartment earlier, and to his chagrin, sore. 

She looked at him with concern. "Are you allright?"

"Yeah...I went to a Spin class this morning." He pulled a face. "Your nephew is so convinced I'm a model, I should really do something to convince him!" He smiled at her. "Except my ass is too big really for those saddles!" 

May laughed. "Please. You went to Spin?" She chuckled and sat down next to him. "Peter does have some interesting ideas." She looked at him. "To be honest, I'll speak to him. He needs to re-learn some boundaries."

Beck smiled at her. "Oh, I like him, don't worry about it. He's very sweet."

"I'm glad you think so."

"Oh, I do." Beck leaned over and kissed her. "I'm happy to see more of Peter. Trust me."


	12. Meet Me In The Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face to face.

Peter sighed as he got home. Ned was out, presumably with Betty. He took off his suit jacket, and hung it up, before moving into the kitchen of the two storey townhouse they shared. Once in the kitchen, he grabbed the kettle, and decided to make a cup of tea. 

As the water boiled, he rubbed his face. Everything was turning to shit. All he seemed to do was sit and argue with Barnes, his aunt was dating an assassin, and to top it off, Loki Laufeyson had come to the office that day, practically sobbing, and ashen faced. 

Laufeyson had begged SHIELD for protection. "My...well, sort of girlfriend is dead," he'd choked out. Hill, Barnes, and Peter had listened as he'd detailed the Kink clinic where she'd worked, and the very brief description of the last man who'd seen her. Who'd just vanished. 

Peter had desperately wanted to blurt out Beck's name. But Barnes had shot him a warning look, and shook his head. Peter had sat, silent and furious. 

Laufeyson had been moved to a safe house. Peter heard the kettle emit its piercing whistle, and took a mug from the cupboard, and rifled through the tea bag caddy. He'd developed a taste for tea whilst on a school trip to London a few years earlier, and dropped the bag into the mug. 

Suddenly, he heard a noise. Leaving the mug, he walked into the hallway. He blinked. 

Standing in the hallway was a tall figure, with a broad build. As they took a step forward, tight black jeans exposed muscular legs, and a shaft of light revealed the piercing glint of azure blue eyes. 

Peter stood frozen in shock. Then, he turned, and ran up the stairs, not hearing the thud of a heavier tread behind him. His heart thudding, Peter pushed open the first door available - the bathroom door - and went straight in, and tried to shut it. Suddenly, he felt himself shoved straight back as Beck entered, shoulder first. Peter grabbed an electric toothbrush and held it out.

Beck looked at him, amusement flickering over his features in the dull light from the hallway. "Really, Peter? Don't you agents have guns?"

Furious, Peter lunged at him, only for Beck to grab his wrist, and twist his arm. Suddenly, the younger man found himself bent over, his arm held straight up. "Hey, stop it, Pete, stop it. I'm not here to kill you."

Peter wrenched his arm free, and raised his other arm to deliver a karate chop to Beck's neck, only for the older man to grab his wrists, and shove him into the bathtub. Where he promptly turned on the taps. Peter choked, the water pouring over his face.

"Face it, Peter, I'm bigger and heavier." Beck leaned in, turning the tap off. "I'm not here to kill you. I repeat - not here to kill you."

Peter choked out a mouthful of water. "What do you want, Beck?!"

Beck released his grip on Peter's shoulders. "Dinner."

Peter looked at him. "What?"

"I want to have dinner with you. Man to man." Beck took a step back. "Is that OK?"

Peter pulled himself up. "I-"

Beck looked at him, and Peter realised his eyes were gazing at the way the soaked shirt was clinging to his toned abdomen. Beck's lips curled. "Sorry. I appreciate beauty when I see it."

Peter looked at him. "Get out, Beck."

Beck sighed. "OK, I'll go. But...if I go...you do realise you'll probably only see me in the company of your aunt? You can't exactly spin out your wild little fantasies about me in front of her."

"Fantasies?"

"I know exactly who you are Peter, and what you're doing." Beck's voice was soft, the cadences rising and falling. "You asked if I were a nurse, or a model. I know why. We met in the hospital, remember? Your hair looks better back, trust me."

Peter lunged for Beck, only to find himself shoved back against the wall. Beck's hand was clutching a knife, and Peter suddenly felt it trail across his throat. "It always hurts the most when I push it in slowly," Beck whispered. "If you want, we can do it in front of the mirror. You can watch your own death." He looked at the younger man's face and chuckled. "I guess you shouldn't have left that gun downstairs."

"When I get the gun-"

"You won't do anything." Beck shrugged. "Shooting me with no evidence would be a major professional disgrace. Plus May likes me. And I like her." Quentin clicked his tongue. "So, little Spider...that is your nickname, right?"

Peter was nodding. He could feel tears start to form in his eyes, born of pure anger, and despair. "Yeah. What do they call you?"

Beck chuckled. "I was called Mysterio in Italy, but that was for the deposing of a minor politician." He looked at Peter. "So, Peter, how about we go downstairs?"

"What for?"

"Dinner," Beck repeated, patiently. He leaned closer, and gently fingered the damp collar of Peter's shirt. "I'm...hungry."

Peter looked at him. "I...can't cook. We only have cold takeaway pizza."

Beck looked at him. "I'll eat anything."

Peter swallowed. "Are you...sure?"

"Peter. I'll eat anything." He leaned closer, and Peter saw the flash of the knife as it lowered. "Now, let's go downstairs." 

Peter nodded, furious at himself. "OK...you first."

Beck smiled. "No, you." He leaned forward. "Don't even think of pushing me down the stairs."

Shivering slightly in his damp shirt, Peter nodded, and stepped in front of him.


	13. Face To Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant evening meal. For Beck, at least.

Peter walked down the steps, wishing his pulse rate would slow down. He was uncomfortably aware of the larger shadow behind him. As he reached the bottom, he turned and walked into the kitchen. Beck followed him. 

Peter looked at the other man, and swallowed. "Um...have a seat." He gestured to the simple table that they had scavenged from a garage sale a few years ago. "Um...would you like a drink? Beer? Soda? Water?"

"Strychnine?" Beck said, sweetly. As Peter's face paled, he chuckled. "Relax. Its a joke."

Cursing that the other man made him so tense, he opened the fridge. "Look, do you want a drink, or not?"

"Peter!" Beck held his hands up, placatingly. "I'm sorry. Poor taste. I'd love a soda, if that's OK?"

"Sure." Peter pulled a can of Pepsi out of the fridge. "Its full sugar."

"Which isn't a problem." Beck accepted the icy can, and cracked it open. "As I keep saying, I'm not a model."

Peter ignored this, and turned his back, rifling through the contents of the appliance. "As I said, all we have is cold pizza...no, actually, I also have some left over Larb, with rice." He looked at the older man. "Is Larb ok?"

"Perfect," Beck nodded. "Thanks."

"Have a seat." Peter pulled the cartons out, and prepared to open the microwave. Beck cleared his throat. "Would you like me to set the table?"

Peter shook his head. "No. You're my guest. Please. Just sit."

"OK." Beck pulled a chair out, and sat down. The soft clank of the can on the table cut through the silence. Then Beck spoke. 

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you took that shirt off?"

Peter blinked. "What?"  
"That shirt. Its soaking. Come on." Beck scraped the chair back, and stood, walking so he stood behind Peter. "Let's get this off."

Peter blinked as Beck's hands began to slowly pull the damp cloth back from his shoulders. He clutched at it protectively. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm trying to stop you from getting pneumonia," Beck responded, patiently, as though he were talking to a child. "That happens, May won't forgive me. Come on. Strip."

"Is that what you say to her?" Peter froze as the words left his mouth, but Beck chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to know, Pete. But I reserve the right to maintain some mystery. Come on. Just get the shirt off." 

Peter unbuttoned the shirt, and pulled it off, thankful that he had left a russet coloured sweater hanging on a peg. As he pulled it over his head, Beck retreated back to the table. Peter faced him. Beck looked back. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Peter shook his head, and turned back to the microwave. Beck took another swallow from the can. "You are going to eat with me, aren't you?"

"I-" Peter paused. 

"Please. I said I was here for dinner. With you."

Peter opened a cabinet, and got out two plates, and then cutlery. As he set them down, the microwave pinged, and retrieved the cartons. He offered them to Beck. "Please."

Beck scooped a spoonful of Larb onto his plate, and sticky rice. Peter served himself, and then picked up his fork. As Beck thrust the first forkful into his mouth, he sighed. "This is good."

"Its only takeout."

"Still good." Beck swallowed, and looked at him. "May isn't too keen on it, she insists on cooking."

"Stop it." Peter muttered, avoiding the other man's eyes. "What?" Beck asked, his azure blue eyes widening innocently. 

"I know you're dating my aunt. I don't need to know details." Peter stabbed his sticky rice. "But there is something I want to know."

"What?"

"Who do you work for?" Peter's tone was challenging, and he pointed his fork at Beck, who casually scooped up another forkful of Larb. "Do you know who you work for, Peter? Because you might find we work for the same people."

"That's not possible." Peter shook his head. 

"Really?" Beck continued chewing. "Why not?"

"Because you're a psychopath." Beck stopped, and looked at him. "I'm what, Peter?"

"You're a narcissistic psychopath," Peter continued, feeling emboldened. "You kill for fun. You kill people in public places, like Mr Hammer, and his girlfriend, you killed a guy who was a little bit of a -"

"Cosplayer," Beck supplied, helpfully.

"And you killed Laufeyson's girlfriend."

Beck looked at him. "Girlfriend? I think that's stretching it, Pete. Also, I fail to see how offing the world of a billionaire who makes tech that can kill millions, a gold digger who was in it for kicks, and a guy who really needed to start living in the real world is any way doing the world a disservice." Beck scooped another forkful into his mouth. 

"What about Lauren?" Pete spoke coldly. Beck paused, and put the fork down. "Sorry?"

"You know who she was. You met her at a support group. People with eating disorders." A surge of anger welled in Peter, and he found it hard to keep his eyes from filling with tears. "You...lied to her. You got her to trust you. You had sex with her. You killed her." Peter looked at Beck and a wave of revulsion coursed through him. "She would have liked you. You probably came over as handsome and kind and understanding, and you probably told her you like curvy girls, because guys like you always know what to say...and then you killed her. You're a monster, Beck."

Beck looked at him plate. "That...is...brilliant." He looked at Peter, coolly. "For the record, I've never been to a support group. Especially not for eating disorders. Although if May keeps insisting on feeding me I may go to a diet group in the near future. As for liking attractive women, yep, guilty as charged." He looked at Peter. "So, no. Get out of that one, Peter. You have no evidence. Of anything. "

"Are you going to lie in response to everything I say?!"

"Isn't that what psychopaths do?" Beck countered. "Psychopaths lie, and they twist words, although Peter-" he leaned forward - "its probably not a good idea to tell someone you think is a psychopath that they are a psychopath. That can make them...angry."

Peter lunged forward, reaching for Beck's neck. The older man grabbed his wrist, giving it a painful twist. "Stop it. I'm not a psychopath. Or a monster. I just do a job. To make money. Like everyone else." 

"You enjoy it."

"Don't you?" Beck held his gaze. "Face it, Pete. The only thing that makes you interesting is trying to catch someone like me. Look at you. Pure whitebread suburbia. Probably won all the academic prizes in school, got bullied by the jocks, wanted to date the Homecoming Queen. Now you're a SHIELD agent, with a gun and an agenda. Let's face it - if you knew I was what you're accusing me of, you'd put a bullet in my head. For Nick Fury. Get your picture in the paper. Just for once, in your ordinary, pen pushing, government regulated life, you'd be..._interesting_."

Peter was shaking with rage. "Get out."

"You're letting me go?" An amused smirk settled across Beck's face. "As it is, I do have to. I'm meeting some friends tonight, at a club downtown. The K17, if you'd like to join us. But first, you're going to give me your phone."

"I...what?"

"Your phone," Beck repeated, patiently. Suddenly, the knife was out and pointing at Peter's throat. "I won't ask again. As I said, it hurts the most when I push it in slowly. Be careful Pete. I do like you. But I really don't like you _that_ much."

Peter swallowed, and held out the iPhone. "Here."

"Thanks." Beck pocketed it. "Passcode?"

"4 3 2...1."

Beck looked at him. "Oh Pete." He chuckled. "Look at you. Whip smart, so keen, eager to impress, and yet ultimately...a sucker." He smirked. 

Suddenly, the front door opened, and Peter heard Ned's voice. "Pete? You home?"

"Ned!" Pete called. "I'm-"

He turned. 

The back door was open. Beck was gone.


	14. Nightclubbing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two becomes Three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No this is not original...it is a remix of Killing Eve. If you've watched S1, some of this chapter will seem very familiar.

"Peter?" Ned's face was a picture of confusion. "Are you...OK?"

"Give me your phone," Peter demanded, virtually ignoring Ned and Betty, who was looking slightly stunned at Peter's demeanour. Wordlessly, Ned handed over his iPhone. Grabbing it, Peter began tapping in numbers. After a few moments, he held it to his ear. "Pick up, please," he mumbled. 

Barnes answered on the third ring. "Who is this?" His tone was sharp, and Peter suddenly realised Ned's number was unknown on Barnes' phone. "Its me, Peter!"

"Parker," Barnes replied, patiently. "Its after ten. What do you want?"

"He was here!"

"He, who?" Barnes asked, puzzled. 

"Him! The killer! Quentin Beck!" Pete tried to modify his tone, realising with horror that both Ned and Betty were still in the kitchen, both looking at him in shock. "He came round here!"

"What did he want?" Barnes tone was stern, as though he were questioning a suspect. 

"Dinner," Peter said, weakly. To his horror, he heard Barnes sound as though he were suppressing a chuckle. "Dinner? Isn't he dating your aunt? Sure this isn't a little male bonding thing?"

"Bucky!" Peter's tone boiled over with frustration. "He's the assassin! He admitted to killing Justin Hammer, and he was the guy in the hospital! Plus, he killed the cosplayer guy!" Peter swallowed, his mouth had gone bone dry. "He's the killer, and he was in my house!"

"Whoa, OK," Barnes' voice took on a placating cadence. "I believe you. Now, did he take anything?"

"My phone," Peter said, his voice almost breaking. He inwardly cursed at himself - he would _not_ cry on the phone to Barnes. "Which has the directions to-"

Silence. "I'll find him," Barnes said, sounding shaken. "Before he gets to Laufeyson's safe house. Did he say where he might go?"

"Yes, the K17 club." Peter paused. "He said he had friends there?"

"Peter." Barnes' tone was soft. "Tony Stark goes to that club. He has an account there. Its his wife's birthday in a couple of days." 

"The billionaire inventor?" Peter gripped the phone so tightly his fingers went slightly numb. "Beck is-"

"I'm on it." Barnes' tone was commanding. "You are not to do anything. I'll get back up. Stay where you are."

"But-"

He blinked. Barnes had hung up.

"Peter?"

He looked up. Ned and Betty were still standing there, like statues. Peter swallowed. "Ned, I can explain everything, I promise-"

"Where's my scarf?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck sauntered down the street, adjusting his white silk shirt. Smiling, he wrapped the soft yellow and burgundy striped scarf round his neck. An old school scarf, he surmised, and he liked the colours. He held it to his nose, and sniffed it. 

He frowned. It didn't smell like Peter - it had a different scent, a different aftershave. His housemate, he suddenly realised. Beck shrugged - he liked the colours, so kept it on. 

He decided to take the subway, as the weather was starting to feel colder, and practically skipped down the stairs. As he approached the platform, he became aware of footsteps behind him. 

Beck turned. A man who looked maybe a couple of years younger than he was behind him, dressed in a shirt and jeans, plus a black leather jacket. Beck shrugged and turned away. Normally he would have made eye contact, but felt he couldn't be bothered. 

"Excuse me!"

Beck did turn. "Yes?" 

The other man approached him. "Sorry, I'm new in town." His tone, and smile, were ingratiating. He stepped forward, and put a hand on Beck's arm. "Could you give me some directions?"

Beck looked at him. "Sure." He smiled. "Where do you want to go?"

"Oh, Upper West Side."

"You're on the wrong platform," Beck replied, smoothly. "Its that side."

"Thanks." Barnes took his hand off Beck's arm and moved away. The implacable coolness of the other man was unnerving. Suddenly, he heard Beck's voice. "Hey!"

Barnes turned. "Yes?"

"I'm in a relationship," Beck said, smoothly. "But if I wasn't, yeah, your hand could go a lot further." He winked at Barnes, and then strode onto the train which had just pulled into the platform. 

With Beck's back turned, Barnes ducked into the next carriage, and sat down in order to be left unseen. After Peter had called, he'd driven to the younger man's house, got out, and walked to see if he could spot the alleged assassin. 

Beck had clearly stopped off somewhere, as Barnes had noticed him. 

He also knew they were going in the wrong direction for the Safe house. Clearly they were going clubbing after all.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Peter, this is crazy!" Ned looked at him, genuine worry in his eyes. "The guy who was here...he's an assassin? An actual badass assassin?!"

"Yes," Peter said, tiredly. "I need to get you protection." He looked at his best friend. "I need to get May protection!"

"He's dating your aunt?!" Ned looked shocked. "Oh, my God!"

"I need to go to K17," Peter grabbed his jacket. 

"But..didn't that other guy tell you to stay here?!"

"Ned, I can't let him go alone." Pulling his arms into the jacket, Peter hurried out. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Barnes saw the K17 club, and swallowed. He'd got lost after leaving the Subway, due to not wanting Beck to spot him. He'd headed into a bar, waited for twenty minutes, and then walked onto the club. 

After paying the entrance fee, he moved into the main area. Pulsing music filled the vast space, and he realised, looking at the leather and black lace clientele, he'd walked into a metal club. As people danced, he realised the harsh metallic tones of what was being played would never endear this music to him. 

He turned. And at the bar, saw Beck. Who was talking to a young woman clad in a black corset. Barnes began to move forward, reaching for the gun concealed under his jacket. 

Beck turned, and made eye contact. Smiled. A chill ran through Barnes as their eyes locked. He began to move forward. 

Suddenly, he realised Beck was also moving. Towards him. Still smiling, in a manner that reminded Barnes of a shark. He kept moving, but then saw something flash. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter entered the club, feeling breathless. He arrived just as a scream went up in the middle of the dancefloor, and cries of shock echoed from some of the patrons. 

Pushing his way forward, the crowd parted, as Peter saw Barnes crumple to the floor. 

"No!" Peter hurried forward, and as he knelt by his colleague, he put his hand on his chest. Blood. 

And something else. Something soft and woollen.

Ned's scarf.


	15. Full House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date with destiny.

Peter took a sip of the tepid, mud hued water in the plastic cup. His hand was shaking to the point that some of it was spilling over the side. As he tried to focus, he became aware of the tall shape of Hill. She sat down next to him. 

"You'll need to make a full statement."

Peter nodded, and took another sip. 

"You'll also need protection for your flatmate."

Peter nodded again. 

"We may need to move your Aunt to a safehouse-"

At this, he snapped to attention. "What?!"

"Peter, your aunt - according to you- is dating the very man who committed this crime." Hill spoke gently, as if to a traumatised child. "Therefore we need to protect her, and you." 

"She can't know about this."

"Peter, how are you going to keep this from her?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. But I'll try. I-"

Suddenly, the door in the hallway opened, and a harried looking man stepped out. He looked at them. "Which one of you is Parker?"

Peter stood up. "Me."

The doctor looked at him. "Mr Barnes wants to see you. But only briefly. He needs to rest."

Nodding, Peter went in. Barnes was propped up, several large pieces of bandage covering his chest. He raised his eyebrows when the younger man entered. "Parker. I am never, ever, ever, going clubbing with you again."

Peter let out a choked cry of relief. "Bucky! He didn't - kill you!"

"No." Barnes gave him a sardonic smile. "Peter, you really need to learn some basics before you go any further. If the person you're following is a vicious psychopath, its generally helpful to wear a stab vest." He gestured to the blue vinyl chair in the corner, the black vest lying across it, torn and ripped. "But he's strong. He managed to get me, even penetrated the vest." He shuddered. "Not to mention the cut here..." he pointed to the base of his neck. 

Peter leaned forward. "God. We need to arrest him!"

"But there's no evidence." Barnes looked at Peter. "There's no DNA on that vest - he was wearing gloves!"

Peter sighed. "We're just going round in circles."

"No." Barnes shook his head. "He'll slip up. Or his handlers will, the people who pay him a nice fat salary for killing who they want to get rid of." 

Peter blinked. "Bucky!"

"What?"

"I just remembered - he took my phone!"

"Your phone?" Barnes repeated. "Your phone because-" He looked at him. "Oh, my God. That's where the details for Laufeyson's Safe House are stored!"

Peter sprang up. "I need to get to the Safe House!"

"No!" Bucky shook his head. "We need to tell Hill, and get her to send a team over." He nodded to the door. "Do it!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Loki Laufeyson glowered slightly as he peered at himself in the mirror. For a multi-millionare like himself, to be ejected from the lap of luxury to a small, somewhat squalid house on the outskirts of town was a definite step downward. But SHIELD had informed him he'd be safe there, so he didn't face the same fate as Justin Hammer. 

Laufeyson shivered. The place was cold, and he'd been told to leave in a hurry. SHIELD had provided a pair of thin cotton pyjamas and a jumper. He put his toothbrush down, rinsed his mouth, and turned. 

Suddenly he froze. Standing in front of him was Quentin Beck. 

"Beck-" Laufeyson spluttered, the residue of toothpaste suddenly turning into bile. "You're-"

"Right here." Beck's tone was sardonic, and he smiled. "Hi."

Laufeyson froze, the tried to push past him. Beck responded by grabbing him and shoving him back against the wall. "Now, now!"

"What do you want?!" Laufeyson's voice was unnaturally high pitched. "I paid you for the hit on my employee!"

"Yeah, you did." Beck nodded. "Just one problem. I'm also getting paid for a hit on you."

"Who by?!"

Beck looked at Laufeyson. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, I would!" Laufeyson's words were taking on a whining tone. "Who? I'll double the money!"

"Well, you see its a little complex." Beck sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "There's this guy. Who feels that he was screwed over by you. And also by Tony Stark. Now, I know you wanted me to get rid of Hammer, and that annoying slut he was with, and then Stark, but this other guy? He's even more pissed with you and Stark than you are with each other. And I did a little job for him that was clean and sweet. So he upped the money - I took out that kinky chick of yours - and now I'm here."

"But -" Laufeyson felt desperate. "Who is he?! Hammer and Stark are taking my tech, and I-"

Beck got up, and moved forward. "Yeah." He spoke softly. "But my new boss thinks you and Tony and Hammer - you took his ideas first. He's a very resourceful guy. He is pissed off that he's one of the guys. One of the guys that has had to do your bidding, fight your wars, build your tech. And for that matter, I'm also one of those guys. But I'm the smartest in the room. SHIELD can't touch me. But it seems as though unless you're some coder who appears on chat shows, you're a nobody. Now, he's tired of it. So am I."

Laufeyson took a swing at him. Beck grabbed him by the jaw and shoved him against the wall. "Don't get me excited!" He smirked. 

Laufeyson spoke again. "You're a monster!"

Beck shook his head. "No. I'm an assassin. You're an idiot. Because killing is my business. And at the moment, its good."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck whistled softly as walked down the street. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind him. A man and a woman. Beck stopped, appraising them. 

They stopped as well. "Are you OK?" the woman asked. Beck sighed. "I'm...a bit lost."

"Oh." She looked at him. "Well, do you want to walk with us? We're on our way to the main area of the city."

Beck nodded and smiled. "That would be great."


	16. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple of assignments.

Peter eyed Fury, whose face was stoically impassive. Maria Hill, slim and silent in black, merely looked ahead. 

"Mr Parker." Fury's voice was devoid of emotion. "Tonight I need you to attend a prestigious black tie event. You'll be attending it with Agent Hill, as Agent Barnes still needs to recuperate. You will be ensuring the safety of Tony Stark."

"Tony Stark?" Peter's jaw dropped slightly. "The...billionaire?"

"The very same," Hill responded, crisply. "He's hosting a fundraiser tonight at his mansion, in Upper New York. Have you ever heard of Steve Rogers?"

"The war hero?" Peter nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Then you might know that Rogers is planning to run for Congress as a junior Representative, and Stark is planing to help finance the campaign. Could be the perfect place for our assassin to show up."

"He'll show up there?!" Peter looked at Hill. "I...don't think he's that stupid."

Fury leaned over. "Why not? He killed Laufeyson in a SHIELD protected Safe House. He killed a sex therapist at her place of work. This man is flamboyant, and attention seeking. The prospect of killing Stark in his own home, in front of his wife, and friends, will be too much for him to resist."

Peter was puzzled. "How do you know that he'll take a hit on Stark?"

"He's killed Hammer and Laufeyson." Hill spoke again. "He's going after these tech giants. Stark is the obvious choice next."

"OK, so I'll go to the fundraiser." Peter nodded. "Will we have to pose as anything?"

Hill shook her head. "No. We can go dressed normally." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Quentin was buttering toast in the kitchen of his apartment when the doorbell rang. Shrugging, he shoved a piece into his mouth, bit into it, and began chewing. Leaving the piece on the plate, he then proceeded to open the door. Ivan Vanko stood in front of him, and raised an eyebrow. 

"Not dressed, again?"

Quentin shrugged, and walked away, Vanko following him. As Quentin picked up the toast, Vanko opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, a toilet flushed, and a door opened. Both men turned round. A woman was standing in the hallway. She smiled at Quentin. 

"Well, we'd better be going." Quentin nodded, and bit into the toast again. Footsteps were heard and a man appeared. He nodded. "Well...thank you."

"For the sex?" Quentin asked, biting into the toast again. "You're welcome."

The young woman smiled. Tucking her arm into the man's, they hurried out. As the door closed, Vanko turned to him. "Did you...?"

"Forget their names? Yeah." Quentin nodded. "I think it was Natalie...Clive...something like that." He shrugged, and finished the toast. "What do you want, Ivan?"

"Are you aware of the fundraiser tonight?"

"Oh yes," Quentin nodded. "I am indeed."

"You're going." Ivan said, his voice steely. "You need to-"

"Ivan," Quentin broke in. "I know what I need to do."

Ivan frowned. "Are you still with your girlfriend?"

"Oh, yes," Quentin said, nodding. "But its a little staid. I need some excitement." He leaned over the breakfast bar. 

"Well," Ivan said, looking at the younger man, "here is your assignment. Hopefully this will give you excitement."

Quentin opened the envelope. "Is this for real?"

"Oh yes."

Quentin looked at him. "You want me to do this?"

"You don't have a choice," Ivan replied. "I suggest you hit the gym. You're looking soft. You need to look...strong...for this."

Quentin swallowed. "Whatever you say."

"Yes, Quentin," Ivan nodded. "That's the right answer."


	17. Hitting It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise encounter.

"I'm so glad you were able to come with me to this, I was worried about turning up on my own, and -"

"May." Quentin leaned in and silenced her with a kiss. "There was no question I'd come to this with you. Its an important night, you've been invited as part of Pepper's foundation, and well...who'd turn down a chance to see inside Stark's mansion?"

May smiled. "I still thank you. I'd have taken Peter if you couldn't have made it, but he's a little hard to reach at the moment."

"He's a little pissed with me, I think," Quentin opined, turning to her. "I know you two have been everything to each other, and-"

"No, you don't need to worry." May shook her head. "He's just snowed under at work, at present. Besides, he's an adult. He knows I need my own life, and he has his."

Beck kissed her again. "You put it so well. Let's go in, shall we?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter swallowed as he walked up the steps to Stark's mansion. Maria Hill flicked her eyes over it. "Very impressive," she murmured. "Bet only three rooms get lived in."

Peter looked at her. "No, he's got to use the other rooms for something."

Maria looked at him, a wry smile curving her lips. "Its all for show, I bet. Stark is a man who loves to make his status known. Now, remember, look out for anyone who appears to be acting strangely around him."

"Agent Hill." Peter huffed with exasperation. "The guy we're looking for...I know who he is. He's the nurse from the hospital. He's the guy who killed Lauren. He's instantly recognisable."

Hill nodded. "Then he may be here. Possibly posing as a waiter."

Peter nodded. "Yes...that would make sense. A waiter. He could poison Stark!"

"But its just a possibility..." Hill reminded him. "Keep an eye out. See what's happening."

Peter nodded, and walked into the main hall, only to be greeted by an impeccably mannered man in a waiter's dress. Accepting a flute of champagne, he walked into the main room, Hill a few steps behind him. 

Scanning the room, he spotted Stark, in an expensive looking tuxedo, with his wife, Pepper Potts. Both were talking to a small group of people, and he could see the animation in Stark's face. Peter moved on, scanning the room. 

He then noticed Steve Rogers, the so-called "Captain America", decorated hero of both Iraq and Afghanistan. He was also talking to two people. 

Peter blinked. One, he realised with shock, was his aunt May, wearing a stunning ivory coloured dress. The other was Quentin Beck. Who was standing with a champagne flute, and wearing a tuxedo that looked more expensive that Stark's.

Beck was there. Not as a waiter, Peter realised, but as a _guest_. 

His heart hammering in his chest, Peter approached them. "Hi."

May, who was taking a sip of champagne, turned to face him. "Peter! How come you're here?!" Smiling, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I was just saying to Quentin how we hadn't seen you in a while-" She turned back to Steve Rogers. "I'm so sorry, Captain, this is my nephew!"

Steve Rogers smiled. "Perfectly OK." He offered Peter his hand. "

Peter looked at Beck, the smirk on the other man's face was unmistakeable. Swallowing his anger, he tried to make his voice reasonable. "Well, work has been a bit tough, and-"

Beck was nodding. "You really need to relax more, Peter. Try and stop being a hero."

Peter flushed with anger. "I'm not trying to be a hero, Mr Beck, I'm-"

"Quentin," Beck corrected. "We're practically family, aren't we?" He turned, Pepper Potts was walking towards them in a striking blue gown. "May, honey, your boss is approaching. I'm going to take Peter to top up his champagne glass, OK?"

May nodded. "Of course." As Pepper approached, Beck slung his arm over Peter's shoulders in a casually friendly gesture. To Peter it felt as though his arm was made of lead, but he allowed the older man to lead him away from his aunt. 

"Come on, Pete. Let's talk in here," Beck said, almost jovially, as he opened a side door. Peter noticed it opened into a small, empty room. "How did you know-"

Beck shrugged. "Peter. People like me have...ways." He looked at the younger man. "Now, you have a choice. You make a scene, and you embarrass your aunt. Or you just act as though I'm your kind, benevolent, step-Uncle. Your call."

Peter looked at him. "There is no way I can see you as kind, or benevolent, Beck. You've killed. Repeatedly."

"We've been through this. Its my _job_." Beck looked at him, and smiled. "My job is to get rid of people. That's all. Now, just accept it."

Peter lunged at him, pushing him against the wall. Beck smirked again. "I didn't know you had it in you. Is this what you want, Peter? Because I can give it to you. Don't think I don't look at you. I've seen you half naked, remember?"

Peter dropped Beck's shirt as though it burned, and took a step back. "Are you...for real?"

"Well, I'm in a relationship, but, trust me, I like a bit of excitement. May is wonderful, but you have to keep you options open. Because...I'm a man of a great many tastes..."

Peter couldn't handle it. The other man's overwhelming smugness infuriated him. Lashing out, he punched Beck. Hard. In the face. 

Beck gasped, and put his hand on his cheek. "Did you just...?"

Peter glared at him. "I did, Beck, and you know what? I'm going to do it again-"

Suddenly, the door burst open. Standing there were May, Stark, and Pepper. All wearing horrified expressions. 

"Peter!" May's voice cut through like a knife. "What are you _doing_?"

Peter looked at Beck. Whose pale blue eyes were full of shock. "Peter, how could you, I-"

Stunned, Peter could only open his mouth silently.


	18. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a go hero.

Peter swung round to look at May, who was moving to Beck's side. "May, you can't-"

May glared at him, then found her voice. "I'm so sorry, Ms Potts, Mr Stark," she apologised, her voice sounding unnaturally thin and high pitched. "My nephew appears to have forgotten his manners. I'm going to speak to him."

Peter flushed, partially with embarrassment, partially with anger. May was speaking about him as though he were a five year old, to a billionaire philanthropist and his beautiful, intelligent wife. And Beck...he glanced over, expecting to see that familiar smirk plastered over his features. 

To his shock, Beck was looking forlorn, and hurt. He looked at the Starks and May. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to get some fresh air."

May nodded. "OK, I'll catch up with you later. Peter..." she looked at her nephew. "Outside. Now."

Feeling his cheeks burning, Peter followed her, the Starks standing there looking stunned. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck walked outside, swallowing. Ignoring the swirl of noise around him, he headed for the Men's room. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"You have five minutes to explain, Peter!" May was standing with her arms folded, outside a side door 

Peter sighed heavily. "May...he's not what you think."

"Really?" May looked at him, her eyes full of hurt. "Peter, Quentin is a good man. He is kind, and considerate. I really do not understand this behaviour, you really have to-"

"He's an assassin!" Peter blurted out. "May, he kills people for a living! You know all those high profile cases in the news? Justin Hammer, his girlfriend, a young woman from SHIELD? Its all him!"

May looked at him, astonished. "Peter...are you serious?"

"Yes!" Peter's tone was exasperated. "I'm here tonight with a colleague, we think his target is Tony Stark, and-"

May pulled him aside. "Peter, if this is true, then its really scary. He knows where I live - I gave him a key!"

Peter paled. "You...what?"

"Peter." May looked at him. "I really don't know what to believe. Quentin is a translator, and that's it. I'm not sure why you feel the need to do this, but I'm leaving for the evening, and I'm taking him with me."

"May-"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," May said, her tone abrupt. "Good night Peter."

Peter blinked as May walked away. Shaking slightly, he began to move back inside the house. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Quentin scowled at his reflection as he held his wrists under the cold water, trying to cool his blood. Parker had come close - too close. He gritted his teeth. All it would take was one slash at his neck, or one swift twist of the neck, and that would be it. A massive irritation would be gone. As for May...he'd disappear after it had happened, and he doubted she'd ever draw the connection. 

He paused, and blinked. Steve Rogers was entering the opulent space. Beck had to admit, he was impressed. Only Tony Stark could decorate a bathroom in red and still make it slightly tacky. He focused on his reflection, noting the other man was approaching the sinks. In fact, he noticed that he was sweating. 

"You OK?" Beck asked, casually. Rogers turned to him. "Yeah, I guess. Tony's thrown one hell of a party." He shrugged. "Good start to the campaign."

Beck swallowed. "You're serious about running for Congress?"

"Yes." Rogers looked at his hands. "Its a chance to make a real difference. I fought in two wars, but I want to try and ensure our foreign policy is geared more towards helping people, rather than killing them."

Beck raised his eyebrows. "You're very open."

"Well, I think politicians owe it to voters to be open." Rogers turned, and looked at him. "I mean, I feel that truth is being obscured, and its going to undermine our rights."

Beck nodded. "I agree, Captain Rogers. People believe what they want to believe. And today, they'll believe anything."

Rogers looked at him. "That's a little nihilistic, don't you think?"

"No, its the actual truth." Beck looked at the other man. "I mean..." he pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket. "I'm a little gullible. I bought this for tonight, this expensive aftershave, and it smells like sweat socks." He shook his head. Rogers laughed. "Can I see?"

"Of course." Beck slid the bottle over to him. "Help yourself!"

Rogers picked it up, and pulling the cap off, sprayed some lightly on his wrist. He sniffed it. "Its kind of...peppery."

Beck nodded. "It is, isn't it?"

Rogers put it down. "I can see why its not to everyone's taste..." suddenly, his eyes widened. Beck looked at him. "Are you OK, Captain?"

Rogers was clutching at his throat, coughing. It was coming out as a loud, strangled wheeze. He looked at Beck, his eyes suddenly fearful. He collapsed. Beck knelt down next to him. 

"You know, anyone could have walked in," Beck told him, softly, as Rogers continued to choke. "But let me open up your shirt."

Rogers continued to wheeze, as Beck got up, unscrewed the cap on the aftershave bottle, and tipped it down the sink, before shoving the bottle into a nearby wastebin. As he turned, Rogers was lying on the floor, choking softly. He looked at Beck, his eyes beginning to freeze, his chest stopping. 

Beck looked up, at the window on the wall, above the sinks. Shaking his head, he moved to the door. Nothing. Opened it, looked out, no-one. Breathing a slight sigh of relief, he walked down the corridor, diving into an alcove as he saw two men entering the bathroom. He heard their shouts of horror. Smiling, he walked down the corridor, pushed open a door, and re-joined the party. May was in the room, looking round. "Quentin!"

"Hey!" he walked over. "Just went to get a drink from the main bar." He smiled. "A small scotch." 

She looked at him. "Are you ready to go?"

"Oh yeah," he nodded, as one of the men who had entered the bathroom came into the room, red faced and panicked looking. "Let's go."

Before May could comment, Quentin put an arm around her waist, and whisked her to the front door, leading her to the car park. As he started the car and began to drive away, she swallowed. "We need to talk."

"We do."

"Peter...he made a ridiculous claim about you."

"Such as?"

"That you're an assassin."

Beck barked out a small laugh. "Really?"

"Yes, I mean...its completely ridiculous." She shook her head. "I mean..." she looked at him, a jokey smile on her lips. "Are you?"

Beck laughed. "May, you know what? If I was, I'd actually have to kill you right now, OK?"

She laughed. "Oh, you know, you're so good humoured!"

Beck grinned. "Oh, I am. And your nephew...don't be too rough on him. He does a stressful job. And, maybe I resemble someone on one of his cases. Don't worry about it."

May nodded. "I am angry though. But if you're ok..."

Beck nodded, ignoring the ambulance that screamed past on the opposite side. "Oh, don't you worry about me. I'm absolutely fine."


	19. Female of the Species

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected encounter.

"Do you have to go?"

Quentin leaned over and kissed May. "I do. I have to visit my agency this afternoon. I've finished a large batch of translation work, and they really need to see me." He leaned back and smiled. "I'll be back tomorrow, if that's ok?"

"Yes, of course." May leaned back against the pillows, and sighed. "I hope Peter might come round tomorrow. Apologise to you, properly."

"May, please, don't worry." Beck kissed her again. "He didn't upset me. He's highly strung, and under stress. He'll come round."

"You're too good." May smiled at him. "I'm so glad we met."

Beck nodded. "Me, too."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Wait...he isn't dead?"

Peter blinked and looked at Fury. "Steve Rogers...isn't dead?!"

Fury nodded. "That's what I said, Parker. Rogers is in a coma, but he isn't dead. Which means the person who tried to kill him at Stark's party may make a surprise visit at his bedside. Now, assuming your theory about the nurse who killed Hammer's girlfriend is correct...we'll be looking for him, won't we?"

"How do you know someone tried to kill him?" Peter's voice sounded unnaturally high and strained. "Maybe Captain Rogers had an extreme allergic reaction. Or maybe he had a sudden...heart attack."

"Please." Fury looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Rogers has body fat lower than Michealangelo's David, and can run twenty miles without breaking a sweat. He's not, according to medical records, allergic to anything. Someone tried to kill him."

"What with?"

"Aftershave." Hill chipped in. "Poisoned aftershave. A blood test has shown toxins in Rogers' system. This was a planned attack."

"He'll go back to the hospital." Peter paused. "But maybe he won't. I mean...he's stayed one step ahead of us."

"You're still going to the hospital." Fury looked at him. "To wait."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck looked up from his menu, and took a sip of the water he'd ordered. He knew she'd come here. Its where Rogers' team came every day for lunch. They were depressingly predictable. He smirked, and checked his watch.

Of course Rogers hadn't died. He hadn't intended to kill him. Just to give his protectors and friends a fright. He knew that his campaign team would be meeting today. If they disbanded, his opponents would smell death. Carry on as normal, Beck mused to himself. 

A pretty waitress approached him. "Can I take your order, Sir?"

"Oh, yes please." Beck picked up the menu again. "Could I have the warm squash and feta cheese salad, please?"

"Of course." She scribbled on her small pad, and walked away. Beck sighed and took another swallow of water. He needed to get back to the gym. May herself had called him "cuddly" that morning, and he was beginning to ruefully reflect that Vanko was right. His clothes were feeling tighter, and he was feeling soft. He took another sip of water. 

"May I join you?"

Beck looked up. Looking straight at him was a woman with beautiful dark red hair, and a slash of red lipstick. She was wearing a tailored navy skirt suit. Beck had a creeping feeling he recognised her. 

Suddenly, he did. 

_Oh, Crap. Didn't I take you and your boyfriend home a while ago?_

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter sighed and checked his watch. No sign of anyone. 

Not even Beck.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"We shouldn't be doing this," Natasha breathed into his ear.

"I agree," Beck said, softly, nibbling gently at her neck. 

"I couldn't believe it when I saw you in the restaurant," she whispered. "Its...fate."

"Absolutely," Beck nodded, feeling impatient. After a meal that had proceeded with more sexual tension than a porn film shoot, Beck had taken her back to his apartment, possessively wrapping his arm around her waist. But she seemed determined to turn foreplay into slow torture. She was straddling him on the bed, running her finger down his chest. Instinctively, he sucked his stomach in. 

"You know," she leaned down, "If you were my boyfriend, I'd have you on a very tight leash."

"Really?" Beck raised an eyebrow. "Sounds...interesting."

"In fact," she murmured, leaning closer "It'd be more of a choke chain."

"Really?" Beck looked at her. "I wouldn't get me excited."

"Why's that?" she asked, almost giggling.

"Because...something might happen." Beck looked at her. 

"Like what?" 

"Well...like..." Beck looked at her. "I'm not really sure you want to know. I mean, you and he got me excited last time-"

"Yes, and it was amazing. " She smiled. "I didn't realise it was possible to do that, and do it twice-"

"Well, perhaps we should just go short and fast," Beck said, pulling her forward. "I mean-"

Suddenly, he froze. 

A blade was glinting in her hand."

"What do you mean, Quentin?" She asked, coolly. "Are you going to tell me before I turn you into SHIELD? Or after?"


	20. Like A Bad Girl Should

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief encounter.

Beck looked at her, his eyes growing wide. "You're...with S.H.I.E.L.D?"

She nodded, gravely. "Let's say I have connections. But there enough to have you put away for a long time."

Beck shifted. "Look...can we.."

The blade was still there, glinting. "Can we...?"

Beck smirked. "Have it rough?"

She looked at him. "I-"

Suddenly, the blade was knocked out of her hand, and his were wrapped around her throat. As he squeezed, she choked, and started trying to wrench his arms open. He responded by sharply turning on the bed, pressing her down onto her side, and then pushing her onto her back. He looked at her. Her face was slowly turning puce. 

"Silly little girl," he murmured. "We could have had fun. But, you know, I like it rough sometimes, so -"

She was choking, her large green eyes fixed upon his, pleading. Beck relented and loosened his grip. She gave a choking gasp, and reached for her throat. Beck climbed off the bed. 

"Listen to me," he said, softly. "Listen because this is the only time I'll say this. If you tell S.H.I.E.L.D, I'll kill you and your boyfriend whilst you both sleep." He picked up the knife, which she had dropped, and pressed it against her neck. "It would be very easy to do this, right now. Very easy to just sink it in, and pull it across. But I've just had my sheets dry cleaned, and I don't feel like paying for that again this week."

She choked, air was returning to her lungs. Beck looked at her dispassionately. "Get out of here. Don't ever come back."

She was still wrapping her hands round her throat. "I - I-"

"I'm showing you mercy," Beck warned her. "Don't throw it back at me. Just get out."

She began to pull herself off the bed. As she did so, Quentin felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket. "Looks like I have to go." 

He turned and began to walk out, leaving the still breathless woman in the bedroom as he closed the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bridging chapter.


	21. Visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to de-rail.

"So...he's just...disappeared?"

Peter looked at Barnes, and shook his head. "No...I don't think so. I think he's just...biding his time."

Barnes sighed, and took a sip of the gelatinous pink liquid in the flask on his desk, and grimaced. "Great. Shame I'm currently desk bound. You know how much I love chasing killer assassins round town with you."

Peter winced. "How are you, Bucky?"

Barnes sighed, putting the flask back. "Well, according to the consultant, my wounds are healing. However, I'm still not back at full fitness." He shrugged. "I'm only allowed in the gym four times a week."

Peter swallowed. "Sorry."

"Its not your fault. He's a vicious, psychopathic megalomaniac, who enjoys killing." Barnes rubbed his forehead. "But still. We're no closer. "

"Tell me about it." Peter smacked his hand down on the files that were resembling a teetering pile on the edge of the desk. "And I've got to go and check on Captain Rogers - "

"What?" Barnes snapped upright, his eyes zeroing in on the younger man. "Rogers? What, Steve Rogers?!"

"Yeah, he was at the party, at Stark's, and Beck-"

"Parker!" Barnes was on his feet, "what did that animal do to him?!"

"Uh-" Parker blinked, slightly shocked by Barnes' wild-eyed expression. "Did you know Captain Rogers-"

"Oh yeah, I barely knew him. I mean, he's only been my best friend since childhood, and we served two tours together in Afghanistan." The sarcasm in the older man's voice hit Peter like a knife. He blinked. "Bucky, I-"

"What did he do to him?" Barnes voice was still unnaturally high and strained, and Peter swallowed. "He was...poisoned. He was at Stark's party, and he...collapsed."

Barnes blinked. "I need to go and see him." 

"But - wait!" Peter got up from his seat. "What if - what if he's there?"

"Then we arrest him." Barnes looked at Peter, fixedly. "Its not hard to figure out." 

"OK." Peter nodded, shakily. "We'll go. But do you think he'd be that obvious?"

Barnes shrugged. "I don't care. I need to see Steve."

Peter nodded. "OK, we'll go."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck swallowed as he adjusted the white coat. _This should be easy._

Walking down the hallway, he smiled at a young nurse at the reception desk. She blushed slightly, and turned away. He stood at the elevator, waiting for it. 

As the doors slid open, he stepped in. Carefully, in his pocket, he felt the syringe. All he needed to do was just plunge it into Rogers arm, compress, and that would be it. Beck silently cursed the fact Rogers hadn't simply died at the party. He smirked as he thought of the publicity storm that would have befallen Stark. 

Vanko had arrived early that morning, just after Beck had returned from a run. The Russian handler had waited for him to drink a glass of water before he issued his directives. 

"Steve Rogers...isn't dead. Bad." He nodded. "Very bad."

Beck shrugged. "What can I say?"

Vanko glared at him. "You could try saying 'I fucked up,', that's what you could try saying."

Beck reached for the coffee cannister, and began to focus on putting spoonfuls of the soft grounds into the filter paper of the mchine. "I think we both know that that is never, ever going to happen."

"Oh, and the woman you picked up? The one working for SHIELD? And for Rogers?"

Beck felt himself stiffen slightly. "...Yes?"

"You let her live." Vanko's pause gave the words a heavier weight than his tone. "Are you losing your touch, Quentin?"

Beck shook his head. "No. I just didn't see the point in killing her in my own apartment, it would look...sloppy."

"Well, you need to stop being...sloppy." Vanko looked at him. "Otherwise....you might find yourself being a target."

Beck looked at Vanko, coolly. "I don't doubt it." He gestured to the coffee maker. "Do you take sugar?"

Vanko glared at him. "Do not make light of this, Quentin. You need to rectify the damage caused. You need to despatch Rogers. Quickly."

Beck smirked. "OK. Mind if I drink my Americano first?"

Vanko leaned forward. "Do not get too cocky, Quentin. Remember - the other job you have to do."

Beck picked up his coffee. "I know. I'm trying to think of a convincing cover story to tell my girlfriend. And her incredibly nosey, annoying nephew." He smiled. "A business trip. But where?"

Vanko nodded. "Fair. But Rogers. Quickly."

Beck nodded. "I'll do my best."

"Its not good enough to do your best, Beck." Vanko's eyes met his. "Failure to do this, could be...painful."

Beck put his mug down, and leaned forward. "Listen, Ivan. Until Tooms has what he wants, not a good idea to get rid of me."

Vanko glowered. "Just...do the job."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter and Barnes waited at the reception desk. Barnes smiled at the woman behind it. "Hi. We're with SHIELD," he said, holding up his badge. "May we see Captain Rogers, please?"

"Oh, of course," the woman nodded. "He's on the third floor, room 20."

"Thank you." Barnes nodded his thanks, and began walking, Peter falling in beside him. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck approached Rogers' bedside, feeling in his pocket for the syringe. As he pulled it out, he examined the man. Flicking his eyes up, he looked at the IV bag. As his fingers closed around the syringe, he looked round the room.

Of course, Rogers was in a single room. But Beck looked carefully, noting the supply cupboard. He uncapped the syringe. 

Suddenly, he heard voices.


	22. Angel of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

Beck paused, the syringe frozen in his hand. As the voices grew louder, his blood began to pulse, preparing to flee. 

Tow female voices - both young - passed the door, vanishing into the corridor. Nurses? Visitors?

He shrugged. He grabbed Rogers muscular upper arm, and coldly surveyed it as though it were a piece of steak.

"I'm sorry, Cap," Beck muttered, as he uncapped the syringe. "But you really should stop with the partying. Its not good for a man of your age."

Beck started to slide the needle into the other man's bicep, and moved his finger to the top of the syringe. He began to press down. 

"Doctor?"

Beck whirled round - and froze. 

Standing in front of him was the man he'd stabbed at the nightclub. Beck's eyes narrowed, and drew the syringe up in front of his face. "Yes? Can I help you?" 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter washed his hands quickly. The combination of nerves and too many cups of coffee that morning had driven him to ask Bucky for a bathroom break. The older man had glared at him, but acquiesced. Peter had half expected him to wait, but Barnes had strode on, purposefully heading to Rogers' bedside. Peter left the men's restroom, and began to walk towards the area that Rogers was in. 

He and Barnes had almost argued upon arrival. Peter had pointed out he'd been sitting, pacing the corridors for almost two days - and nothing. Barnes had simply ignored him. 

As Peter approached Rogers' room, he realised that he could hear voices. His pulse starting to spike, he began to run.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Get away from him," Barnes said, almost spitting out the words. "Now."

Beck looked puzzled. "I'm a doctor, OK? I'm not sure what your problem is, Sir, but I can-"

"I'll tell you what my problem is," Barnes interrupted, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Beck's face. "My problem is that you're about to plunge something into his arm that will kill him. I suggest you come with me."

"So, you think I'm about to kill him, but you're shoving a gun in my face?" Beck looked wounded. "I'm just trying to do my job."

"Oh yeah," Barnes said, nodding. "Aren't you just?"

"Yes, healing the sick -"

Barnes lunged at Beck, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him up against the door. "You're no doctor," he hissed, "and you are coming with me, Beck. You're coming with me, and you're going to answer our questions-"

"Bucky, I-"

Peter walked in, and his mouth dropped. Barnes didn't turn his head. "Parker. Get your gun, and your cuffs."

Peter nodded, adrenaline coursing his veins. "I-"

"No I about it!" Barnes snapped. "We-"

Suddenly, he stopped. 

Beck was pointing the syringe directly at his eye. Bucky froze, suddenly unable to speak. Beck was beginning to smirk.

"You do see this, don't you Agent?" Beck was speaking, his voice smooth, unctuous, in the tone of an innocuous talk show host. "Course you do. Now, this syringe is filled with Strychnine. Cheap, I know. But I needed it for the job this afternoon. But now...I think I can make it stretch. If you, or Peter here, try and take me into custody, this is going into your eye, Agent Barnes. Don't think I'm bluffing."

"I know you aren't." Barnes tried hard not to focus on the needle point facing his pupil. "What do you want?"

"You're going to let me go. You're going to let me walk out of here."

Barnes nodded briefly. "Understood."

"Thank you." Beck still stood with the syringe at Barnes eye, then his face cracked into a grin. Putting his hand, and the syringe down, he pocketed it. "Thanks. See you around."

Barnes immediately pulled the gun up to level with Beck's face, only to receive a karate chop to the chest. As he fell backward, wheezing, Peter moved forward, only to find himself on the floor due to a kick to the stomach. Beck was turning, ready to flee - then suddenly he crumpled to the ground. 

Peter sat up, gasping. Natasha Romanov walked in, her slick black heels clicking on the floor. Beck was sprawled out, juddering slightly. She knelt down. "Out cold," she observed. As Peter blinked, several armed SHIELD agents, in riot gear, moved in, pointing guns directly at Beck. 

Peter struggled to his feet. Natasha was at Barnes' side. "You OK?" she asked, almost tenderly.

"I will be." Barnes allowed her to help him up. "Thanks, Nat."

"Well, let's get him back to HQ," Romanov commented. "Fury can't wait to interview him."

"I'll bet." Barnes looked at Peter, as the other agents cuffed back, and dragged the semi-conscious man to his feet. Barnes walked over to the side of Captain Rogers.

"Hey Steve," he said, softly. "We got him. And you know what? He's dead."


	23. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck is cornered. Barnes is in for the long haul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I hope everyone is well. Its been an interesting couple of months, to say the very least. 
> 
> Thank you if you've been reading this in Lockdown. I've been very busy with working from home, hence the silence. 
> 
> Title taken from Nine Inch Nails' "Closer."
> 
> One part of this chapter was inspired by a scene in Homeland.

"Where is he?"

"Holding cell."

Peter expelled his breath sharply. "Holding cell? Why isn't he being interrogated?"

"Because," Romanov said, patiently, "the interrogator needs to put together a strategy. You know that, Parker." She took a sip from the plastic cup she was holding. "We can't just dive in."

Peter bit his lip, trying to hide his frustration. He knew Romanov was correct, and as a SHIELD agent of two years' experience, he should have known without needing to question. But Beck didn't deserve a strategy. He should be in the room, handcuffed, and questioned. 

"Whose doing the interrogation?" Peter asked, suddenly. Hill spoke. "Barnes."

"Barnes? Am I-"

Hill shook her head. "No. Barnes is an experienced agent, Parker. You're going to watch, along with us, and learn." She gestured at the huge window that looked into the interrogation room in front of them. "Remember, Beck will be looking at a mirror. We'll be looking at him."

Parker swallowed. "But he - he nearly killed Bucky-"

"He also nearly killed Steve Rogers," Romanov interjected. "I think Barnes has reason to want to go alone at first."

"But doesn't that make him a risk?" Peter persisted. "More likely to lose it, and-"

His voice trailed off. Hill raised an eyebrow. "Barnes would not compromise an interrogation. He's ex-CIA. Did a year long stint in Iraq. He knows how to get information and not compromise himself."

Peter nodded, his head whirling. Suddenly, the door on the other side of the interrogation room began to open, and Quentin Beck was ushered in by two anonymous SHIELD agents, both in black, and both expressionless. 

Peter looked at Beck. Stripped of the fake medical scrubs, he was in a navy jumpsuit, his hands cuffed together. As they seated him at the wooden table, his handcuffs were then chained to the cuffs in the desk. As one of the agents bent down, Peter knew they were doing the same thing to his feet. 

Beck's face wore an expression of bored amusement. As though he were a parent, forced to watch children playing for the umpteenth time that day. He looked completely unfazed by what was happening. Peter shook his head. Suddenly, the door opened again, and in walked Barnes. Clad in a black suit, he seated himself opposite Beck, carefully placing the objects he was holding on the table. A file; a bottle of water; and a plastic cup. He picked up the cup, and took a sip, his eyes trailing Beck's face. 

Peter shivered. He'd seen that expression in Barnes' face. When they were in Lauren's house, and found her body entangled in her own bed sheets. Barnes, Peter knew, didn't just want to interrogate Beck. 

He wanted to kill him. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck looked at the other man, allowing the torturous silence to deepen between them. He looked him up and down, assessing his appearance. _Shame this isn't under different circumstances, Agent Barnes. I could have so much fun with you._

Barnes took another sip of coffee, letting his eyes play over Beck. "Comfortable?"

Beck swallowed. "Yes, thank you."

"Really?" Barnes' voice was soft. "Sure you wouldn't prefer to be in a designer suit, than that hideous jumpsuit?"

Beck smiled, slightly. "I can adapt, Agent Barnes. You don't need to worry."

Barnes took another sip of coffee. "I see. Water?"

"No, thanks."

"You sure?" Barnes looked at him. "You could be here for a while...Beck. A few hours. Or...a few days. Depending..."

He let his voice trail off. Beck sat, expressionless. 

"...depending on how much you tell me."

Beck licked his top lip. Peter saw the gesture, and shuddered. It reminded him of a predator, about to tear into its prey. Barnes raised his eyebrows, signalling that it had not gone unnoticed. "Water?"

Beck smirked. "No thanks. Ruins my appetite."

Barnes didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, you certainly have one of those." Opening the file, he began to pull out photographs, and casually started to scatter them on the desk. "These are all photos of people who have died. We believe they died by your hand." 

Beck's eyes roamed over them, then locked eyes with Barnes. "Died...by my hand, Agent?"

Barnes looked at him. "Look at this one, Beck." His finger jabbed down onto the photo of Lauren. "Strangled in her bed. Two wine glasses next to the bed. She invited her killer into her bed with her." Barnes leaned forward. "A nice girl. A sweet girl, who worked in our Logistics department, collecting reports. Who attended meetings in a community hall twice a week to help with an eating disorder. Who liked going to the cinema and collecting vintage sugar bowls. She didn't deserve to die like this, but your charm, Beck...who could possibly resist it?"

Beck tilted his head. "My charm? Are you saying I killed her, Agent Barnes?" 

Barnes laid his hand on another photo. "This guy. Andy. An insecure geek who longed to meet someone who understood him. You pretended to answer an ad, turned up at his door. You humiliated him. You killed him. For a tech giant. That's who you work for."

Beck raised both eyebrows. "I work for...a tech giant? Agent Barnes, I'm just a translator. That's all. A technical translator."

Barnes unscrewed the bottle of water, and took a swallow. "If we're going to play games, I'd advise you to ask for water. Because I like to play games, Beck. And I can play them all night."

Beck smirked. "I bet you can. Pick up a few torture tactics in Iraq, did you? Got a dog lead for me here? Bet you'd enjoy that, pulling me around."

Barnes narrowed his eyes. "I wouldn't waste my tactics on you, Beck." He took another swallow of water. "You're not that complicated. You're just a narcissist, who loves the money and luxuries his job gives him."

Beck widened his eyes. "I'm hurt, Agent. Perhaps you could elaborate?" 

"And...this one." Barnes slammed his hand on the table. "Loki Laufeyson. Extremely rich, somewhat unethical. Murdered in a safe house that he was placed in by SHIELD. Murdered because you broke into an Agent's home, terrorised him, stole his phone, and then committed murder. Not to mention you also killed his mistress, or sex therapist, or dominatrix - whilst posing as a client."

Beck coughed. "You do realise, Agent Barnes, this all sounds...completely crazy." He smirked. "Do I look like the kind of man who would need to visit a sex therapist? I can assure you, I'm a strictly vanilla kind of guy." He leaned forward. "But I could be persuaded..."

He let his chained hand slowly rub circles over the photos, ever closer to Barnes. As their fingers met, Barnes kept his face impassive, and did not move his fingers. When he failed to get a reaction, Beck left them there. Barnes cleared his throat, and continued. 

"No, its all pretty run of the mill, for a professional assassin like yourself. You killed Justin Hammer, then slaughtered his girlfriend in hospital a couple of days later. You seem to be working your way through connections to tech giants. But there's one you haven't killed."

Beck looked at Barnes. "Who?"

Barnes looked at him. "Tony Stark."

Beck shrugged. "That is possibly because...I'm not a professional assassin. And I've never met Tony Stark."

Barnes smiled. "Are you sure, Quentin?"

Beck nodded. "Absolutely."

"Then who is this?" Barnes pulled out a photo, and slapped it down on the desk. "That's you. That's you and Stark." Barnes tapped his finger on the photo. "And that is Steve Rogers, an American hero, who you tried to kill at the party. And who you tried to kill today in his hospital bed."

Beck looked up at Barnes, his eyes narrowing. "You took a long route to get to this point, Agent." He leaned forward. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"I want you to tell me the truth." Barnes looked at him, his anger mounting in his face. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Parker," Hill spoke so softly it made the younger man blink in surprise. "Get ready. You're going in."

"What?"

"Barnes." Hill looked at him. "You need to go in, and verify what he said. You saw him. You were at that party."

Peter nodded. "OK. Do I follow Barnes' lead?"

"Of course. Let him direct you. Romanov and I will be right here."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"The truth?" Beck shrugged. "Yeah, I was at that party. I was with my girlfriend, Agent Barnes. But she's the employee of Pepper Potts, at her foundation. I don't know the Starks, personally."

"And what about Steve Rogers?" Barnes voice had an edge. "He was found comatose in one of the bathrooms. Toxins in his system. Do you know anything about that?"

Beck looked at Barnes, his eyes wide. "Toxins? Its terrible the number of allergies people have now, isn't it?"

"Stop it." Barnes' voice was tight. "You tried to kill him. You nearly succeeded. You are going to tell me who you work for, and you're going to tell me now."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peter was opening the door that led into the interrogation room. He heard Barnes' voice - and that it was raised. Swallowing, he pushed the door and stepped in.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"I don't have to tell you anything." Beck's voice was smug. "Steve Rogers is a man who went overseas and killed people because the government told him to. Do you really think he deserves to become a Congressman, Agent Barnes? Pampered with our taxes?" Beck grimaced. "He thinks he going to change the world. My guess is he'll just become fat on state banquets and bloated on power and allow the little people to carry on dying to keep people like him and his cronies rich. " 

"You-" Barnes was starting to stand up. "You dare-"

"Listen, you think I'm a killer. But if I am responsible for those deaths, maybe I'm doing the world a favour-"

Suddenly, Barnes pulled a pocketknife out from his gun belt, and slammed it straight into Beck's hand. "Shut the fuck up!! Just tell me the fucking truth, you-"

"BUCKY!"

Barnes looked up. Peter, his face ashen, was standing straight behind Beck. Looking down, the blood was seeping out of Beck's hand, flowing towards the edge of the table.


	24. Contraband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes lashes out. Fury has a solution.

"Bucky!" Peter grabbed the older man's arm, and tried to pull it away. "Bucky, stop!"

Barnes turned round, and punched Peter. Fast. Hard. In the jaw. He crumpled to the ground.

"Get off me!" He was still holding the knife, and now standing next to Beck, leaning over the desk to the side. Beck looked at him. Tears of pain were streaking his face, and blood was pooling out of his hand, forming into a Rorschach blot on the desk. "This is my fucking interrogation! You will talk to me! You will tell me who you're working for! You will tell me what you were planning to do at Steve's bedside! Or I'll stick this in you again!"

He slammed the knife back down next to Beck. "You want this in your chest, you son of a bitch?! Tell me! Who do you fucking work for!"

Peter struggled off the floor. "Bucky, stop!" He grabbed the other man's arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in his jaw, and began to push him away from Beck, whose eyes were still leaking tears, looked at the desk. Peter pushed him against the wall. "What are you doing?!"

Barnes shrugged him off. "What I'm doing, Parker, is finding out who this piece of shit works for. Why he tried to kill me, why he tried to kill Steve, why he's left a mounting pile of corpses with no explanation. He likes to play rough, well trust me, I can play rough too."

Beck looked at Barnes, his face twisted with anger and shock. "Now, that's the best thing you've said so far, Agent. Although you really didn't have to go to all this trouble to get me to play rough with you."

Barnes looked at Beck, his face rigid. "You are the most -"

Suddenly Beck spoke. "Might be a good time to break out that dog leash, Agent. I'm sure you'd enjoy dragging me around on that. Might make you feel more of a man." He curled his top lip in a snarl. "I'm sure I could sit up and beg for you. I do tricks as well." He looked at Barnes. "You're a little thin for me, but I guess that's what happens when you spend two weeks in hospital. By the way, I'm sorry about that. I guess I just slipped." 

The words cut through the atmosphere like a bonesaw. Peter saw Barnes flinch. "Ignore him," he whispered. "Please, Bucky, just ignore him."

"Yeah, of course you slipped. And yeah, weight loss tends to come when you spend two weeks bed ridden because a psychopath sticks a knife in your chest." Barnes stood up, behind the desk, holding the knife. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you? Does that make you feel more of a man, Beck?"

"Agent Barnes." Beck looked at him. "As I once said to Agent Parker, its probably not a good idea to tell someone whom you think is a psychopath that they're a psychopath." Beck's manner was calm, the tears on his cheeks fading. "Plus, I may be a psychopath, but I'm not the one holding a candlelit vigil at Steve Rogers' bedside. That's a little obsessive. You sure you don't need to talk about that? Because you can talk to me, Agent Barnes. I understand these things. I understand...needs." He was smirking. "Lauren...now I understood her needs. It was such a shame she was bulimic. She had a good body. I like something I can hold onto. Do you like that, Agent Barnes? Because with me you could hold on-"

"Don't talk about her." Barnes voice was hoarse, tight with anger. "She was one of ours, and you took advantage. You played on her emotions. You used her. You killed her. You did that just to get at us, to show us that you're a viper." 

"No, I understand emotions." Beck's voice was casual. Peter looked at him, and noticed he was starting to smirk. The interrogation was being derailed. "I understand what its like to have strong feelings you can't express, Agent Barnes. You seem so upset about Rogers. So upset that I can casually dismiss him. If you want to unburden yourself, go ahead. I won't tell." 

Peter couldn't restrain himself. "Shut up, Beck!" 

"You're so professional, Agent Parker. This interrogation is going really well," Beck sighed. "And neither of you have offered to do anything for my hand. Perhaps some bandages? Maybe some antiseptic?"

Barnes was scarlet with rage. Peter saw the knife being gripped slowly, Barnes' knuckles slowly turning white. "I'll offer you strychnine in a moment. Just tell me - who do you work for?"

"Just as soon as you put the leash on me." A wolfish grin was starting to appear on Beck's face, which made Peter feel slightly sick. He'd worn the same expression when he'd met him at May's for the introductory dinner. "You'll enjoy it, Agent Barnes. I'm very willing. I'll do anything. Is that why you're so upset about Rogers? Were you hoping that he would-"

At this, Barnes shoved Peter aside, and swung his fist, straight into Beck's face. The seated man's head jerked back. When he righted it, Peter noticed that his expression had altered. He was starting to look afraid. 

"If you," Barnes was spitting the words out, in a cold, harsh staccato, "say one more word about Steve Rogers, or imply one more thing, I will take this knife, and I will plunge it into your throat. We do have regulations about what we can do to our prisoners, but in your case, I'm prepared to bend them. I'm prepared to break them. I'm-"

"BARNES!!"

Peter blinked. Nick Fury stood in the centre of the doorway, his expression grim. Behind him were Hill and Romanov. Barnes looked at Fury, the anger on his face ebbing away, to be replaced with defiance. 

"Agent Barnes." Fury spoke in his usual emotionless manner. "Please leave the interrogation. I'll deal with the suspect myself. Parker? You're staying as a witness. Agents Hill and Romanov, please leave the medical kit on the desk."

Barnes threw one last furious look at Beck before leaving the room, the two women behind him. Peter blinked at the white medical kit box that was on the desk. Fury calmly walked to the desk, and settled himself into the chair. 

"Now, Mr Beck." He looked at him. "I'm not your friend. But at the moment, I'm the only hope you've got. If you don't want to spend the rest of your life rotting in jail, with no expensive suits, watches, restaurants, or women to entertain you, you'll start talking." 

"About what?" Beck looked at Peter. "Could you...bandage my hand for me?"

Fury looked at Peter. "Agent Parker. Please."

Peter moved over, and opened the medical kit. As he pulled out a pristine white bandage, he looked at Beck. The older man ignored him. 

"You'll talk about who pays for you. Who funds your lifestyle."

Beck looked at him. "You do realise that if I do, he'll vanish. He has protection, Mr Fury."

"Not from me, Mr Beck."

Beck shrugged. "Well, does the name Eugene Tooms mean anything to you?"

"Tooms?" Fury blinked. "You mean the weapons engineer?"

"Yeah..." Beck nodded, pretending to look deep in thought. "I think its the same guy."

"Didn't he double cross Tony Stark?!" Peter blurted out. Both men looked at him, Beck raising an eyebrow. Peter flinched. The side of his face where Barnes had hit him was starting to become a melange of indigo and crimson. Beck shrugged. "Its possible. But Stark double crosses everyone, so I guess he should be ok with it."

Fury leaned forward. "Do you think you can face life imprisonment, Mr Beck?"

Beck smirked. "Get me a private suite."

"Mr Beck. I'll cut a deal with you." Fury's solitary eye lasered in on the younger man's face. "You help me out...I'll keep you out of jail."

Stunned, Peter let the medical kit box crash to the floor.


	25. Wait And Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness falls.

As the medical kit crashed to the floor, both Fury and Beck turned to Peter. Beck couldn't seem to resist a smirk. "What's wrong, Peter? Discovering your boss is just as corrupt as mine? Maybe they're the same. What do you think-"

Suddenly, Beck broke off. Fury had reached across and slapped him hard on the face. Beck spluttered, and tried to right himself. 

"So far, Mr Beck, you have pissed off one of my agents enough for him to stab you in the hand. Oh, after he punched you in the face. Now you're annoying me to the point where I want to hit you. In fact, you have annoyed me to the point where I think I'll send Agent Barnes back in. Clearly, you're not ready to hear what I have to offer. Parker!" Peter jumped slightly. "Get him cleaned up. Then stay. Do not address the prisoner in any way. If he speaks to you, ignore him. If he tries to grab you, you have the panic button. Do not deal with him yourself."

Peter nodded, and then moved towards Beck. Silently, he placed the kit on the desk, and pulled out a bandage. As he began to open it, he looked at the wound. It was clean, but deep. Peter swallowed and pulled out the bottle of antiseptic, gently blotting it onto cotton wool. Carefully, he began to clean the wound, trying to ignore Beck's small gasp of pain as the amber liquid stung the exposed flesh. As he removed the cotton wool, he started wrapping the bandage, pulling it tight. 

"Be gentle, please," Beck said, softly. "I've always been gentle with you, Peter."

Peter ignored him, focusing on fastening the bandage. 

"Or, should I say, I've always been gentle with your aunt. She's really special, Peter. I've never met someone before who is just so...nice." Beck smirked as the younger man's face paled. "Yeah, I'm gentle with your Aunt May. So be a good boy, and be gentle with me. Save the rough stuff for Agent Barnes. I know I would."

Stunned, Peter dropped the other man's hand as though it burned. He remembered Fury's words, and his resolve tightened. He took a step back. 

Beck started to chuckle. "Come on Peter. You can be honest with me. We're practically family."

Peter stood steadfast, ignoring the older man's humiliating barbs. Suddenly, the door behind the desk opened, and Barnes strode in. Wearing a clean shirt, with no tie, he strode across the room and sat down opposite Beck. He was carrying a steaming cup of coffee, which he placed in the middle of the desk. He then produced a small pot of creamer, and two packets of sugar. He pulled the top off of the creamer, and poured it in, followed by the packets of sugar. Picking up a plastic stirrer, he began to mix it. Beck sat, silently. Barnes picked up the cup and took a sip. "Now, that's good." He looked at Beck. "I'm sorry," he said, with feigned politeness. "Did you think it was for you?"

Beck shrugged. "Drink it, Agent. You need the calories." He grinned. "Love the new look. Just undo the shirt by another couple of buttons...I'd be putty in your hands." 

Peter saw Barnes flinch - the older man was well aware the predator opposite him was eyeing him like a piece of raw steak. He slowly picked up the coffee cup, and took another sip. He put the cup down, and began to speak again. "Listen Beck. We're not going on a date. You have no way out of this. Who do you work for?"

Beck looked at Barnes. "What are you going to do if I don't tell you, Agent? Slice my hand off?"

Barnes gazed at him. "If I did it would only give you an opportunity to martyr yourself. No. I won't stick a knife in you again." He took another sip. "But, I'd enjoy sticking you in a jail cell. I think a few weeks of no designer clothes, personal trainer, skincare...yeah, I think you'd suffer."

"Glad to hear that's all you're threatening to do." Beck smirked. Peter looked at Barnes, noting his jaw was starting to clench. A bad sign. "Although, I bet you're dying to kill me. Retribution for what I did to you. But, for what its worth, Agent Barnes, I really am sorry. I would have rather have taken you home. Sat with you in bed and fed you ice cream. Not...trying to kill you on a crowded dance floor."

Barnes leaned forward. "And what would you have done, after I'd eaten the ice cream, Beck? Lulled me to sleep and then slit my throat? Yeah, you'd have done that. Then slipped out the door, leaving me to bleed to death in my bed. Leaving everyone here to wonder what had happened. And as a final touch...I'm sure you wouldn't have objected if Agent Parker had found me."

"That hurts." Beck looked at him, his eyes widened. "I don't feed everyone ice cream. And like I said Agent, you need it. I doubt you could take me in a fight right now. I think Parker might have a better chance." 

"Trying to make me feel insecure isn't going to help you," Barnes said softly, leaning forward. 

"I don't need to try and make you feel insecure. You are insecure," Beck said, smoothly. "Only an insecure man would feel the need to physically assault and threaten a suspect...who can't do anything, because I'm still chained to this bench. I don't know why you're trying to be macho, James but its not working."

Peter blinked, and looked at Barnes. "He- what?!"

"I used his name, Agent Parker." Beck was smiling, his expression bordering on smug. "I mean, you do know about his past, don't you? You do know that he and I were in the CIA together? You do know that he and I ended up in Baghdad, trying to find - in fact, if I'm an assassin, James, so are you. Don't tell me you've forgotten that night, when we tracked down the diplomat-"

Barnes took another sip of coffee. "Yeah, I remember." He took another sip and stood up. "Parker. Meal break. Let's go."

Peter blinked. "What about...?"

"Well, Beck here clearly doesn't need anything," Barnes said smoothly. "So he'll have no objection if I eat his and mine. I mean, didn't you say I needed the calories?"

Beck glared. "Yeah, you should really bulk up a little." He smirked. "Make it harder for you to catch me when I'm released."

"Very likely," Barnes nodded. "So, if you'll excuse us, we'll be back in about...forty minutes."

"Excellent," Beck nodded. "I look forward to watching you continually try and deny we knew each other, James. Tell me, does Fury know?"

"Of course he does," Barnes nodded. "Why do you think I'm leading the team to catch you? I mean, the CIA - it made you, Beck. It trained you, it taught you all the techniques...and what are you using it for? To assassinate people at the behest of some millionaire. At least I'm serving my country. You're only serving yourself. Keep deluding yourself that you're a public servant. You're just helping to make someone richer."

Beck blinked, and opened his mouth, but found no response. Barnes smiled - a genuine one. 

"Yeah, Pete and I are going to take a little break now," he said, walking towards the door. As he and Peter did so, the lights started to flicked. Beck jumped. "What...?"

"Don't you remember, Beck? Sensory deprivation," Barnes called over his shoulder as the raucous tones of Slipknot started to spill from wall mounted speakers. "Enjoy the peace and quiet!"

As the two men left, and the growls of heavy metal filled the room, the lights went out, and Beck was left in darkness.


	26. Say Just Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprising revelation.

"OK, Parker," Barnes said, heavily, raising his coffee cup. "You're dying to ask, so go on."

Peter swallowed, looking down at the remains of his sandwich. The staff canteen was quiet - only two female agents were in the large space, talking quietly. Peter looked at his Coke can. "So...did you know Beck?"

Barnes leaned forward. "Yes. Next question?"

"Were you both...CIA?"

Barnes nodded, taking another sip of coffee. "Yes, we were. After I did two tours of Afghanistan - back in 2002, 2003 - I was recruited into the CIA. Beck was there as well. The new class."

"Was he in the Army?"

Barnes shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. I don't know what his background is."

"Were you - ever posted together?"

"Yes." Barnes nodded. "Pete, everything he said was true - in respect to me and him having worked together. And. he hasn't changed. Still a sleazebag. Still narcissistic. Still likes the good things in life."

"Did he try to-"

"Yes," Barnes sighed. "Pete, anything you ask me about Beck, I'm likely to say yes. But he was thrown out of the CIA, and I transferred to SHIELD. Good career move for me. I think he made the right one for him."

"Do you think he's going to crack?"

Barnes put his cup down. "I don't know. Let's see how long he can handle Slipknot for." He grimaced. "I dated someone once who was into them."

Peter started to laugh. "No way! She was?"

"She was," Barnes confirmed. "And before you ask, she was over 20. In fact, she was over 30." He smiled, wistfully. "Fantastic, lovely woman- very questionable music taste."

"Did she work for the CIA?"

"No, she worked for us."

"She worked...for us?"

"Yeah." Barnes looked at Peter. "Lauren. She was an ex of mine." 

Peter felt as though his breath had been sucked out. "Bucky...he's killed your ex girlfriend, he's tried to kill your best friend-"

"This isn't about me, Parker," Barnes said, in a warning tone. "Lauren, Steve - they're just collateral damage. He clearly had access to Lauren's personnel files, someone was tipping him off about her. Whoever it is, is determined to use him to get to Tony Stark. And Stark is pretty friendly with Steve - remember, military tech - so its all getting tied together in a knot."

"So, you knew Lauren was having treatment for an eating disorder?"

Barnes groaned and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I did. Knowing that he'd used her illness against her...and I had to be professional about it when we found her..."

"Bucky..." Peter took a deep breath. "Do you think we can prove Beck's done what he-"

"Sorry, Pete." Barnes pulled out his cellphone, which had started to ring. "Barnes. Yes. What? My...OK. Thank you for letting me know. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Barnes got up. "Right. Let's get him."

"What? Beck-"

"That was the hospital." Barnes' voice was terse. "Steve is currently critically ill - apparently his organs have started to fail due to the toxins in his bloodstream. They're not sure he's going to make it."

Peter blinked. "So, we get Beck to confess."

"We do. And then we can charge him with first degree murder with clear evidence." 

"But I think Fury wants-"

Barnes looked at Peter. "I'm not sure I care what Fury wants. I just want the truth."


	27. Darkness Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck is left to sweat it out. Fury reveals some theories.

Beck shivered. He had lost track of the time. At least, he reflected ruefully, the room was currently silent. After what felt like an eternity of heavy metal, the noise had stopped. He blinked. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness. 

He swallowed. The inside of his mouth was dry, and he ran his tongue over his top lip. Dry also. He sighed. If Barnes wanted to play his little childish games, he thought, he could carry on trying. He tugged at his shackled wrists. The slight jingling noise cut through the silent, cavernous space. 

He felt his eyes closing. Closing, and his head falling forward. Suddenly, the lights flicked on, and the roar of Slipknot came thundering into the room. 

Beck's mind came awake with a shocking jerk. Swallowing again, he tried to focus, and smiled for the benefit of the cameras. The bright fluorescent lights were painful after the pitch black, and the music was a constant barrage of noise. He sighed. _Come on Barnes. You can do better than this._

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"He'll crack."

Barnes looked at Hill, who was staring out of the half silvered window that covered one of the walls. "Don't be too sure," he cautioned her. "He hasn't given in yet."

"How long has he been in there?" Peter asked, slightly nervously. Barnes' jaw was clenched, and Peter felt the agent was only a second away from erupting in full on rage. "It feels like hours."

"You'd think that," Hill said, nodding. "But its been...45 minutes." She looked at Peter. "This is the whole point of sensory deprivation and over stimulation techniques. They confuse the suspect into believing he's been there forever. Think about it, nothing to punctuate time. No clocks, no food...he probably thinks he has been in there hours."

"If he doesn't start talking, he'll be in there for eternity." Barnes took a sip of water. "What do you say Hill? Another twenty minutes of letting him sweat it, then I go in again?"

"But that's the problem," Hill countered. "He isn't sweating it. Look at him."

All three agents gathered together at the window. Beck was sitting with an almost serene look on his face, his eyes closed. Barnes glowered. "He's playing us, Hill. Put him back in darkness. Leave the music on." He looked at Peter. "Would you ever want to listen to that in a dark room?"

Peter swallowed. "Er...no."

"Quite right. Trust me, nor would I." Hill turned round. "Lights!"

The interrogation room was plunged into darkness again, the shrill scream of an electric guitar amplified in the gloom. Barnes took another sip of water. "Hope he's enjoying it." 

"Twenty minutes." Hill looked at Barnes. "Then you go in. And Barnes, for God's sake, have a strategy. Otherwise we'll have to let him go."

"But he was there!" Barnes exploded. "He was at Steve's bedside, with a syringe!"

"And the medical staff just let him walk in." Hill shook her head. "We'll never get them to testify. It'll be too embarrassing for them. Best to try and get him to confess."

Barnes rubbed his forehead. "Confess. I think he'd rather die. I-"

"Agent Barnes!" 

Everyone blinked. Nick Fury strode into the room, his face as impassive as ever. He looked at the younger man. "Agent Barnes, when you next talk to Beck, you offer him a deal. That's what he wants."

"A deal?!" Barnes spluttered. 

"A deal." Fury's voice was calm and deliberate. "He may be able to lead us to Eugene Tooms. All we need to do is offer him what he thinks is immunity...if he does something for us."

"Eugene Tooms?" Peter broke in. "Isn't he the guy who had a vendetta against Stark?!"

"He's got a vendetta against most of the tech billionaires," Hill said, her voice firm. "Laufeyson, Hammer-"

Barnes rubbed his forehead. "I -" He looked at Fury. "You mean to tell me, you think this guy is the personal assassin of Eugene Tooms? That he's been playing this long elaborate charade at his behest?"

"Tooms hates Stark," Fury said, easily. "Hates him enough to kill him, but that's crude. So he's taking out the competition, in order to lead us to him...and then he'll pull the masterstroke."

"Which is?" Barnes pressed. 

"That's what we need to find out." Fury looked at the three of them, his gaze sweeping round. "Offer Beck a deal. Then we can take them all in. In fact, Barnes, Parker -" his gaze fell upon the younger man. "Let's go and discuss this. We need to offer this soon."


	28. Breaking the Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beck is in a new position.

"So, what do we do now?"

Barnes checked his watch. "Order takeout, shower, sleep. Then come back here in ten hours."

"We're leaving him in there."

Barnes shrugged. "He's got Slipknot to keep him company. Maybe I could suggest some Judas Priest later. Come on."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Half an hour later, the two men were seated in Barnes' apartment. Barnes looked at Peter. "Water? Beer?" He rifled a few bottles. "The takeout should be here in twenty minutes."

"Um, soda, please?"

Barnes shrugged. "As you wish." Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a can of Coke, and tossed it at Peter. The younger man accepted it gratefully and cracked it open. Barnes pulled out a bottle of beer, and opened it. Walking back into the lounge, he slumped into a chair. Peter took a swallow of Coke, and cleared his throat. Barnes looked over at him. "Go on."

"You and Beck...have a bad history?"

Barnes sighed. "If by bad history you mean almost getting my arm blown off in Baghdad, yes."

"What?!"

"We were meant to be taking a diplomat to be interrogated. Diplomat who was suspected of selling secrets to other countries." Barnes looked at the floor. "Beck and I were the agents meant to escort him out the building. The guy pulls a gun, Beck pushes him into me as he fires. Next thing I know, I'm in hospital with my arm bandaged. The diplomat had smeared the bullet with a poison. I developed septicemia, nearly lost my arm, and had to be put in a medical coma for five days. When I came round, Beck had vanished. Just left the CIA, and disappeared. Now I know where's he been."

"Been?"

"Working as a gun for hire. Funding a lavish lifestyle." Barnes shook his head. "He nearly costs me my arm, then he stabs me. And then he flirts with me. How he got through psychometric testing I will never know." 

The intercom buzzed. "Takeout." Barnes got up. "Go get some plates, would you?"

++++++++++++++++++++++

Ten minutes later, both had served themselves and were seated at the dining table. Peter used his chopsticks to pick up noodles. Barnes was aimlessly prodding at the food on his plate. 

"Bucky?"

"Hmmm?"

"Do you really think Beck will get the information for us?"

"If he values his life, he will."

"Don't you think you're putting yourself in danger?"

Barnes put down his fork. "Parker. What are you trying to say?"

"I'm just saying..." Peter's voice trailed off. There was a grim set to the older man's jaw, and he realised that any objection he made would likely be ignored. "What if...you're attacked by another inmate? Or something goes wrong?"

"The only way this is going to go wrong is if SHIELD fails to respond once Beck has the information, and I pull him out." Barnes sighed and wound some noodles round his fork. "Peter. You're going to have to trust me and them."

Peter nodded. "If you say so." 

"I say so. Pass the soy sauce, please."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Beck sighed as he waited. It had been close to a day since he'd finally been released from interrogation. Put in a cell. Allowed to sleep. Now he was waiting again, in a small enclosed room, clad in a hideous orange jumpsuit. He scowled as he looked down at the handcuffs on his wrists - he'd have preferred it if they'd returned his rolex.

"Beck?" 

He looked up. Barnes was entering the room, with Parker behind him. Beck's eyes glittered as he took in Barnes, and the new black and khaki uniform he wore. "Agent Barnes," Beck almost purred, "you do look good in uniform."

Barnes, much to Peter's relief, ignored him. "OK, Parker. You understand the drill?"

"Yes." Peter nodded. "I and Agent Wilson are going to escort you and Beck to the penitentiary. There he'll go in as a prisoner, and you'll be his guard."

"That's right." Barnes nodded. "Because Beck is a highly dangerous, and unstable prisoner who really should be thrown into a hole where the birds can't shit on him, but -"

"I thought you liked a bit of danger, Agent Barnes?" Beck's voice cut through, its tone taunting. "Or did you leave that in Baghdad-"

At that, Barnes removed his baton, and struck Beck across the abdomen. Hard. The other man doubled over, and gasped. Peter blinked. "Bucky!"

"He got off lightly." Barnes voice was low, and dangerous. "It should have been his face." 

"Stop flirting, Agent Barnes." Beck looked at him. "You know what it does."

"It must be so nice to live in your twisted reality, Beck," Barnes shot back. "A reality where I'm your slave and you're a free man. But its not going to happen. Ever."

"I am a free man, James." Beck's voice was sibilant. "I'm doing this as a favour. No one has charged me with anything. You want me to go into the institution and find the guy who calls himself Scorpio - and hope that I get information to lead you to Tooms. So, stop acting like you're the big I Am, and accept that at the moment, that's me."

Barnes' jaw clenched. "You do realise we have a team trying to flush out all your little sychophants, Beck? The team who put all your costumes together?"

"Good luck." Beck shrugged, causing the handcuffs to clink. "They've bailed. Gone. So start being nice to me, Barnes." He walked up, standing closely to the other man. "Because otherwise..."

Barnes was red with fury. "Step back, Beck."

"Of course." Beck did so, smirking. "So, shall we? I bet you're dying to get me into that cell, Barnes."

The two men began to walk. Feeling uneasy, Parker followed.


End file.
